Occupational Hazards
by Delilah Wigglesworth
Summary: When Paul turns up in ghost form in Suze's room, she's practically scared to death. Which, to her, would be a relief. However, she lives, and is forced to solve Paul's problem. But, does Paul see it as a problem? Not when he has Suze to play with...
1. Ghost Boy

**Diclaimer:** Yada yada yada  
  
**A/N:** Here is my LATEST, GREATEST (we will see) story!!! I know I know, it hasn't been long since my last one, but **_ANNA SUSWILLO_** helped me out with this plot (kindly continue to kick ass, messy buckets. So here it is. I HOPE you enjoy, my ever-faithful clutchlings.

* * *

Everything was being ordinary for me. The life of Susannah Simon was for once a peaceful, tranquil, uneventful one.  
  
Well, I say ordinary. What I really mean is semi-ordinary. Ordinary would be pushing it. Here is what my semi-ordinary life consists of: good hair days, school dragging, friends being cool, my tan being even, having a beautiful, loving boyfriend. And no ghosts.  
  
My ordinary life would consist of: good hair days, school dragging, friends being cool, my tan being even, having a beautiful, loving boyfriend. Plus ghosts.  
  
For the past three weeks my life has been of the semi-ordinary variety.  
  
And I have liked it, okay?  
  
So when Father D came up to me one lunch time to guide me to a quiet corner in the school and asked me if I had seen or heard from Paul in a while, I thought nothing of it.  
  
Actually, that's not the truth.  
  
I thought, _Wow, semi-ordinary life is picking up.  
_  
So sue me! The guy ruins my happily comfortable semi-ordinary life and just plain wrecks my ordinary one. I instantly forgot about Father D's worried frown when I returned to Adam and CeeCee, the former of which was seeing how a ham, jelly, and peanut butter sandwich (plus banana slices when I arrived) would taste.  
  
Not nice, judging by the greenish tinge that swallowed up his face and clashed with his red GAP tee.  
  
However, when Paul suddenly appeared in my room later that evening, interrupting my English essay (oh, and I was so sorry to be interrupted during that), all that concern on Father Dom's face about Paul came rushing back to me with the force of a nuclear bomb.  
  
"Oh my God, Paul! You're dead!" I shrieked and ran up to him, gripping him by the arms. My hands cushioning the familiar glow that surrounded the dead.  
  
His face momentarily crumpled but then he composed his features and nodded, his eyes swimming and body trembling. I felt my own eyes prickle uncomfortably and then scalding droplets were trailing down my cheeks. It felt as if someone had stuffed a nerf ball down my throat and I choked quietly.  
  
My knees weakened and my peripheral vision shrank dramatically, grey and white spots dancing in front of my eyes.  
  
Paul quickly grabbed my arms and led me to my bed where I sat in a state of shock, staring at the wall opposite.  
  
"You can't be dead. You're a...a mediator... You just can't be..." I lifted my eyes to plead with his. To let him wake me up from this nightmare I was in. But in nightmares, you don't hear your step brother grunting in the room down the hall as he lifted weights, and you certainly don't hear the television in the lounge, blaring out the latest news.  
  
This was all so sudden. So unreal. I couldn't take it all in. People don't just die!  
  
And then Paul spoke.  
  
And God, I wanted to kill him myself.  
  
"You're right. I can't be." I looked up at him incomprehensively. He lowered his head to mine and whispered, _"I'm not."  
_  
My vision swam back into view, everything becoming dazzlingly bright. My hand stopped shaking with shock, and started shaking with rage.  
  
The words eventually soaked into my suddenly thick and cold skin. They seeped right through into my brain. And then they crackled, igniting every nerve, thought, and reaction in my body.  
  
_"You...bastard..."_ I could no longer hear any sounds except my heavy breathing. _"You complete and utter bastard..."_ I looked at Paul and there was fire in my eyes. He saw. And he backed off slowly.  
  
"S-Suze I'm sorry! It was just a....just a joke!" He lifted his hands to defend himself.  
  
_Just a joke? Just a goddam joke?_  
  
"I thought you were dead. I_ thought_ you had _died_. Do you have any idea what that's like? To be told someone you know and are close to is _dead?_ When my dad died-" I broke off with a choke. Memories of receiving the news that my dad had died flashed through my mind.  
  
They were like daggers, every single one of them.  
  
Paul's face paled and he took a step towards me with his arms outstretched. I flinched.  
  
"I forgot, Suze. I forgot about your dad. I never would have put you through that if I'd-"  
  
"Oh, but you still would've put me through that? You still would've _lied_ to me and told me you were _dead?_ What, was this some sick joke of yours to find out how much I care for you?"  
  
By the guilty jerk of his shoulder I guessed that's exactly what it was.  
  
"You bastard," I repeated with venom. "Well I don't care for you in the slightest. At least, not any more. Do you know what I was thinking of when you _lied to me_ and told me you were dead? I was thinking of my _dad_. Not you. _My dad_. So don't you _dare_ go away and think I was upset about you. Don't you _dare!"_ I stood up and lashed out at him. Pounding my fists against his chest, his shoulders, his face.  
  
And do you know what the sneaky, _slimy_ creature did? He dematerialised. And I was left thumping thin air.  
  
Obviously I stopped. God, I'm not that much of a loser.  
  
But the anger and _fury_ and the hurt I felt consumed me. I just wanted to hurt something. Kill something. And that something was Paul. But of course, the coward had run away. And I was left to deal with the aftershocks.  
  
I snarled and stormed out of my room, almost yanking the door out of its hinges as I went. When I flew down the stairs and my mom asked me where I was going, I merely growled, "Out." and I was out of the house.  
  
I didn't notice all the roads I stalked down, or the roads I crossed without looking. I just took off, unconsciously heading towards our school. When I reached the iron gates, I vaulted over them and carried on to the rectory. My feet and calves were stinging and there was a gash on my hand – stuff gash, it was a gorge – that was spewing blood. But still I carried on until I reached the rectory door and pounded on it.  
  
Father Dom opened the door with a mask of shock on his face. "Susannah!" He gasped, his voice reproving and concerned.  
  
I barged past and paced up and down. "I _hate_ him," I snarled, _"I hate him!"_ I whipped round to face Father Dom, still with his mask of shock on.  
  
"Hate whom, Susannah?"  
  
"Paul." I spat the name out and decided I hadn't had enough of spitting it out. "Paul Paul Paul Paul Paul Paul _bloody_ Paul!" Father D made no noise of disapproval at my manner or words but approached me calmly.  
  
"_Querida_?" Jesse's voice was full of anxiety and distress as he appeared from behind.  
  
I sat down reluctantly when Father Dom's always-surprisingly strong hands weighted my shoulders.  
  
"You wondered where he was, Father D? Well, heaven knows where he actually is but do you wanna know what he told me? He told me he was _dead_." Father D's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. I gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I know. And do you know what I did?" I felt that familiar anger rising up in me. "Do you know what I _did_?"  
  
Father D reached out a hand to comfort me on my arm. I flinched away and stared hopelessly into his eyes.  
  
"I cried." I said the words with disgust and pity. Self-pity and self-hate. I felt a sneer play at my face. "I cried for that son of a-"  
  
"Susannah..." Father D's voice was quiet but commanding. Even in a time like this he could still be worried about naughty words being spoken.  
  
I looked at Father D's eyes again, my vision swimming with fresh tears.  
  
"All I could think about," I whispered, "was that day when my mom had come up to me and told me my dad was dead. It was like it was happening all over again." My eyes fell to my hands curled in my lap, as if they were made heavy with all the tears.  
  
Father Dom crouched to my level and gently touched my cheek. "But he's not dead?" He quietly asked. I shook my head.  
  
No. Paul was not dead.  
  
"Then..." Father Dom continued, "What exactly is he?"

* * *

I hope you likey likeyed! I know tis a wee bit odd.

But you'll get over it.


	2. Night Time Visits

**A/N:** Lalala, oh. Hello. Yes. Yes. Oh thank you. Hmm. I'm not sure about that... Oh really? I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g. Who, me? Nonono, I'm not Meg Cabot! Nonono, i dont write the Mediator series. You got the wrong number, pal.

**Esodes:** I am planning on making this another long, fear not, child! I like long ones too.

**Oenone:** Aw, aren't you the cutest?

**Mystique Angelique:** Paul isn't a dickhead. Repeat after me: Paul is cutie-wootie-smootie-pootie

**Nice Hayley:** How come everytime i say your name i sing it?

**PoeticKiss:** Aw, you should keep reading. You should.

**UnAngelicHalo:** Uh oh. I am acknowledging you! Like i wouldn't. I like my reviews. Did you see how many i got for my last story?? When i was starting off, i thought i would only get about 3. Sheesh, you guys kick ass.

**Rissa:** Finally came crawling back, eh, Rissa? Thought you could stay away, din't ya? Well, you were wrong._ Dead _wrong. (Thank you for reviewing. It was short because i didn't know what to write.)

Enjoy my loverlies.

* * *

I snorted at Father D.

Like I actually cared what was wrong with Paul. There's a lot of things wrong with him, like one more will do any more damage.  
  
I regretted snorting though. No, it wasn't my guilty conscience. As if. But it made me realise how blocked up my nose and throat were with phlegm and tears and I instantly started crying again.  
  
"Jesse, I think you should take Susannah home. I'm going to call Paul and question him, I think it would be best if Susannah were gone when he arrived," Father Dom whispered the last bit to Jesse but I still heard.  
  
I brought my head up and sniffed a decisive, final sniff. "No, I wanna be here when he shows up. I got a few things I wanna say to him," I brought my head up and scowled. _And do to him_, I added mentally.  
  
Father Dom smiled weakly. "That's what I'm afraid of." I frowned and stood up.  
  
"I don't need anyone to take me home. I'm fine." I turned abruptly and walked out of the Rectory. I stopped in front of the large iron gates. Suddenly I wasn't feeling so independent and strong. I didn't have enough strength to climb over it.  
  
I heard a _click_ as the lock unlocked itself and the gates swung open with an eerie creak. I stared at them then whizzed round.  
  
"I said I was fine, Jesse!" I heard a faint chuckle behind me in the direction of the gates and I whizzed back round again.  
  
"You are too tired to be climbing over things. I will escort you home," he offered me his arm and I huffed and sauntered past. I heard another chuckle.  
  
I pushed my shoulders back and held my chin higher and kicked up my pace. My legs were pumping pretty fast and my breath was quickening. I thought I had escaped the inescapable Jesse until he stepped up to me with a casual, easy stride.  
  
His legs weren't working hard. His breath wasn't shallow. Sometimes I envied the dead.  
  
Most of the time, I didn't.  
  
"Are you alright, Susannah?" He looked down at me as we continued walking. The iridescent moonlight was reflecting his deep eyes and making his glow even more unearthly. It would've been romantic if it weren't for the fact that I was still simmering about Paul.  
  
"I'm fine. Everything is fine." I kicked up the pace and stared determinedly ahead.  
  
I felt a large hand grip my arm and spin me round. Jesse's eyes were so dark they were like endless pits I could easily fall into. His frown showed his overt concern for me and, goddam it, I felt tears prickling my eyes again.  
  
I stubbornly jutted out my bottom lip into a half pout, half lip-frown.  
  
"I'll kill him," he suddenly growled.  
  
I gave a start of surprise. His eyes flashed with anger but he still showed concern for me.  
  
_"What?"_  
  
"Look at what he's done to you," he brought a hand to my cheek and touched it gently. "You don't deserve this. He is foul. He is evil. He is a –" Jesse went on to explain just exactly what Paul was in some Spanish.  
  
I decided to interrupt him before he got a little carried away...  
  
"Jesse! Jesse!" But Jesse was looking away and still saying some Spanish stuff in a hushed, furious voice.  
  
However Jesse took no notice. So I cupped my hands around his face and brought it gently towards mine. I looked into his eyes and they visibly cooled and calmed down.  
  
"Jesse, I'm fine. Paul is just a jerk. I'm over it, okay? I'm _fine_. You don't need to kill him," I grinned a wicked grin at him and added, "I can do that for myself, thank you very much."  
  
Jesse continued to frown at me and I giggled at his cuteness. "_I'm fine_," I repeated slowly. Eventually Jesse's frown disappeared and he gave me a peck on the tip of my nose. I smiled and started walking home.  
  
I noticed Jesse was walking uncomfortable, shifting closer and further away from me, his arm twitching out to my elbow then, just before it touched me, swinging back sharply to his side. I also caught him glancing at me frequently, always with a frown on his face, as if he were calculating something.  
  
I slipped my arm round his waist and looked up at him. He appeared quite shocked at first, but then he relaxed. And there was no more twitching, glancing, or frowning. In fact, he slipped his arm round my waist and a smile lit up his face.  
  
We settled into a gentle stroll back to my house and I felt just like an old, married couple. I could picture us, walking arm in arm – or zimmer frame to zimmer frame – along the beach in the sunset. My smile grew wider and I snuggled in closer to Jesse, he rested his head on my in response.  
  
We arrived at my doorstep and before I could even open the front door, it swung open to reveal a very angry mom.  
  
"Where _were_ you, Susie?"  
  
"Um, I told you. I went out. I just went round to meet CeeCee at the beach. Sorry I didn't call you or tell you in detail, but, um...she was really upset and she wanted me there quick. So I had to, you know, hurry..."  
  
Mum's face instantly relaxed then sharpened again for the routine final lecture. "Make sure you give me a call next time, okay?" I nodded and went upstairs, mentally wiping the sweat off my brow.  
  
I trudged up the stairs and flopped onto my bed. God, I was confused. I didn't know whether to love my life or hate my life. For me, there was no in between. I rolled off my bed and wrangled myself into my PJs in my bathroom then did my nightly ablutions. I peaked into my mirror and shrieked.  
  
I was staring into the eyes of a junkie. A wild-haired, blood-shot, puffy- eyed, red-nosed junkie.  
  
Oh no, wait. It was me.  
  
I groaned and filled my sink with water. Then dunked my head under it. And kept it there. When it felt as if my lungs were filled with embers, I pulled my head up.  
  
Great, now I was a dripping junkie. I went back to my bed and lay down. Face first.  
  
Sure I may suffocate, but it was better than Jesse seeing me like this.  
  
It seemed like I was just dozing off into the ever-welcome land of nod, when a gentle voice whispered,_ "I'm sorry."_ My eyes shot open and I span onto my back and – tried to, anyway – into a half-sitting position.  
  
This resulted in my legs and arms getting tangled in my duvet, and I gracelessly tumbled out of bed. I sprang up and my duvet fell off me like a thick, white waterfall. My hair went static. I rammed my hands onto my head while glaring at my intruder. He was glowing.  
  
"What do you want and who are you?" I self-consciously tugged my tank top over the stretch of skin that was showing just above my boxers and crossed my arms protectively.  
  
"I came to apologise, Suze. I was stupid and insensitive," it was Paul. I should've known. Only he would turn up in the middle of the night and perve on me in my pyjamas. "And you'll never know how sorry I am for hurting you," he added softly. His dark eyes reflected the moonlight that was flooding into the room and his glow cast his face into shadows, softening his usually sharp and concise features.  
  
I _humph_ed and angled myself back into bed, clutching my duvet around me. "I'm fine. You can go now." Paul gave a barely decipherable nod and sparkled away.  
  
Then sparkled back again.  
  
This time, kneeling in front of me.  
  
On my bed.  
  
His knees were spread so they were trapping mine between his.  
  
"I really am sorry, Suze." I gulped and nodded.  
  
"Sure, sure you are," I garbled quickly, "and I appreciate the effort and thought you put in to get the message across." I tugged some duvet that he was sitting on from under his butt and gathered it closer to me. "But I'm really tired and I'd quite like to sleep now."  
  
I faked a yawn and looked at him out of the corner of my eye as I did so to see if he was convinced.  
  
He was grinning. Not a good sign.  
  
"Sure thing, babe." And then he sparkled away again. It took a while for me to get even near a drifting off stage. Not only were my thoughts filled with Paul, but I got the uncanny feeling he was still watching me. Not a nice feeling. I mean, how was a I supposed to change? To shower? To sleep? To _pee_?  
  
I got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. So I stopped. Well, tried to anyway. What I really did was force a picture of Jesse into head. But it kept in swimming away and being replaced with Paul.  
  
Alright then, if that was what God wanted, fine. I would think about Paul. I thought about how creepy he was. But that was about as successful as me trying to think about Jesse. Paul's lips just kept on floating into my mind...and then his eyes followed. Except these weren't the eyes that scared me and caused me back away when he was near. These weren't the eyes cold and hard that pierced through me whenever I mentioned Jesse. These weren't the eyes, darkened and softened by desire that dumped live worms in my stomach whenever I looked into them.  
  
The eyes that filled my head were the warm, soulful, gentle eyes he used whenever he noticed me upset, hurt, or worried.  
  
Unless I was worried about Jesse, in which case _bam_. Here comes old ice- eyes.  
  
I shook myself mentally. But I couldn't get rid of those eyes. They made me feel safe and comfortable.  
  
I _had_ to stop thinking about Paul. Stupid Paul. Paul Paul Paul Paul _Paul_...  
  
"You called ?" I sat up in my bed with a shriek.  
  
"Paul, you freak! What the hell are you doing here?" Paul was sat at the end of my bed, regarding me amusement in his eyes.  
  
"You called me, Simon." He cocked and eyebrow and the corner of his lip tugged slightly.  
  
I huffed. "I did not." He smiled a full-on smile and raised his other eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah you did, Suze. You clearly said-" he mimicked my high voice and made it sounds breathy with desire and cupped his hands together in prayer position, "Paul Paul Paul Paul Paul...oh _Paul."_  
  
I sat gobsmacked. My mouth had hit my chin and my arms were limp at my sides. Then I snapped my jaw shut and felt a flush creep up my neck and swallow my face. "In – your- dreams, Slater," I tilted my head stubbornly and hoped it wasn't light enough for him to see my blush.  
  
"You're blushing," he stated.  
  
Damn.  
  
This caused me to blush even more. "Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are so."  
  
"Oh be quiet. I'm blushing because I'm hot." I harrumphed and Paul just smiled even more.  
  
Then a thought struck me. "Wait a minute, how did you know I was calling you? If you're not dead..." I eyes him suspiciously.  
  
"I'm stuck." He said simply. This time a little blush was creeping through his cheeks.  
  
I smiled deliciously. He was embarrassed. And he was cute at the same time. With his puppy dog eyes, and his...  
  
No!  
  
"Stuck where?"  
  
Paul looked up at me and our eyes locked.  
  
"Between the world of the living, and the world of the dead."


	3. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

**Disclaimer:** Ach ach ach....sorry, furball.

**A/N: CIAO, FAIR WEINERS**. And how fares thee? Bon. Um, this chappie is particularly BAD and ODD cos I was ill when i wrote it and had just finished reading a fairly cheeky adult book... so don't blame me. I would say it is **FAIRLY STRONG PG-13.** I apologise to all you tender hearted and simple-minded children. **LOOK AWAY, NOW!**

**Nice Hayley:** I thought the nose kissing was cute too. I am glad you are taking Paul's not-dead situation so well....(please, no more church songs, they burn my ears. I'm not one of God's fave people, being the devil and all.)

**Oenone:** Modest, aren't we? _- rolls eyes -_

**Mystique Angelique:** So you have time to review other people's stories but you don't ahve times to write your own, instead you leave us HANGING and CHOKING OURSELF WITH OUR SHOE LACES. Or is it just me? You. Are. Odd._ "...To pee....he he he...."_ **WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT???**

**PoeticKiss:** Jesse would never be disgusted with Suze and her appearance! How can you blaspheme so! Shoo, away with ye, ye foul minded beast! Raar!

**UnangelicHalo: **Blue eyes can go dark! When they're filled with such passion and LUST they go dark.... the pupils grow large, the colour swims into darker tones as his mind and heart fill with darker emotions.... Like, you know in Finding Nemo, when the Bruce's eyes go all dark and scary? Like that. Paul has spotted his prey and he WANTS it. You see? Do you honestly think I would forget Paul's eye colour? Shame on you, you hussy! (I'm jsut kidding..........)

**God: **Stay away. Don't evne think about reviewing again and NO WAY would anyone even THINK about publishing your poems. NO WAY. The robots are YEARNING? All be PEAS???? Get outta here, you freak.

**Esodes08:** (you should definitely think about gettin "headacheful" trademarked. it's good stuff) Paul isn't dead - he just screwed up. The question is, how do they get him back? Tune in for more....

**Ameroni:** Does your name mean you are a cross between and American and a peperoni? Cos if so, that's pretty cool, Salami Girl. Thank you for liking my story. I like your name. Not as much as you like my story but hey! That's pretty much impossible!

Me? Bigheaded? I think not...

* * *

I gaped at Paul. "Stuck?" He nodded. "Between life...and _death_?" He nodded some more. "Holy cow," I whispered. More nods. "It's certainly a conversation stopper," I looked up at him and he chortled.  
  
"You're telling me." His eyes emptied to seriousness now as he stated, "You're the only one who can see me. And save me."  
  
I gulped. I had the sudden urge to apologise.  
  
"Poor you." He didn't stand a chance. Paul gave a weak smile.  
  
"Yeah. I'm in deep trouble, aren't I?" He grinned wickedly and I thwacked him with my pillow.  
  
"Hey! You know, I have a real knack at getting people out of sticky situations. Sheesh, I'd be in the lock-up a million times over if I didn't," I hated to admit this, but it was true.  
  
Paul just grimaced.  
  
"So...how exactly are you stuck?" I gave him the once over, he looked like he could move about okay to me.  
  
"My body's stuck in my room, at the moment. And I can't return to it. My grandpa knows so we don't have to worry about any...unsavoury characters finding out. But my grandpa can't do anything about it," Paul's face suddenly darkened and a muscle in his jaw leapt. "As if he'd want to."  
  
I felt a tug of sympathy – alright, maybe it was more of a wrench – and I instinctively reached out to touch his arm. Paul's (BLUE) eyes darkened and filled with a look like a wolf's when it spies a frightened rabbit - dinner.  
  
I let go of his arm.  
  
"We should go to Father D," I said hurriedly, trying to change the subject and get rid of the look in his eye.  
  
"Father D already knows. He called me to the rectory for a little chat. He doesn't know what's wrong or how to fix it, like I even thought he would know." His eyes locked with mine. "I need _you."_  
  
_Now_ that's _desperate_, I thought. But then again, Paul was the definition of _desperate_. He was young but now he was stuck in a life that wasn't really a life. And his escape relied on me.  
  
Me, the girl who can't even manage to wake up in time for school every morning. Me, the girl who still can't get the hang of not burning pasta. Me, who can't even seem to be able to save my own life, let alone someone's whose actually counted.  
  
Cos Paul could be big in life. I could see him now, a big-in-the-business business man, respected, notorious, sharp, and with all these gorgeous stick-thin super models draped on his arm as he walked into the chicest, most expensive bars in the city.  
  
And me? Where could I see myself in the future?  
  
I could see myself selling Big Macs at Maccy D's, or bringing tea and biscuits to my boss who patted my ass appreciatively when I turned around. Basically being a nothing.  
  
So I did kinda want it to work out for Paul. Sure, he was a royal pain in the butt. But he had a chance to be something in life.  
  
Once he learned how to stop being such a jerk.  
  
I sighed dejectedly, trying to disguise how much I actually cared if I screwed this up for him.  
  
"Alright. Seeing as how I'm the _only_ one willing to help you..."  
  
"The only one_ able_ to help me," Paul put in. I cut him a look and he shut up.  
  
"As I was saying, seeing as I am the only one willing to help you, I must accept the challenge. I agree to helping you regain your life."  
  
Paul grinned and flopped down on his back so his head was resting on my thigh. "So we're partners, eh?"  
  
"Until you get a life. Literally." I couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked as he gazed up at me with puppy dog eyes. I wanted to bite down on the cute little nose.  
  
"Not interrupting anything, I hope?" Both mine and Paul's heads snapped round to look at Jesse who was standing in front of my bay window, arms crossed, shoulders stiff and neck muscles tense.  
  
His scar was glowing and his eyes were flashing.  
  
And he still looked hot.  
  
Then I remembered the other hottie. The other hottie lying with his head on my lap. On my bed. With me in my pyjamas.  
  
Crap.  
  
But it became pretty clear that Jesse wasn't angry at me. Oh no, he was staring daggers at Paul.  
  
If looks could kill, Paul wouldn't even need to be fully-alive to be vaporised on the spot.  
  
"You," Jesse pointed at Paul, "should not even be looking at her, let alone talking to her. Have you not done enough damage with your thoughtlessness? And now you are taking advantage of her when she is weak."  
  
I protested loudly at that. I was not weak. Sure, I was only wearing some boxers and a tank top, but that didn't mean I was weak.  
  
Paul rose slowly from my thigh, which grew cold at the loss of his weight and heat. "I was just asking Suze for her help," he said slyly and deliberately.  
  
Jesse's eyes narrowed at Paul calling me Suze and then widened when Paul mentioned needing my help.  
  
"And Suze kindly accepted." An annoyingly knowing smirk spread across his face and there was a glint in his eye I knew Jesse wouldn't miss.  
  
Paul turned to me and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers brush my temple and linger for a second too long.  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
Jesse was momentarily stunned by the fact that Paul could de-materialise, but he regained his countenance and snapped his head towards me. I wrangled myself out of my duvet and hopped off my bed, stepping close to Jesse.  
  
"He needs my help, Jesse. I can't just leave him like this. He had – _has_ – a life. And I'm his only chance at him living it."  
  
My eyes searched Jesse's for any sign of emotion. But at the moment, they remained as dark and unreadable as a blank TV screen.  
  
Finally he heaved a sigh and grabbed me, pulling me into a bear hug.  
  
"I know you have to help him. You're just too kind for your own good," he murmured into my hair, stroking it with his hand. I grimaced.  
  
Me? Kind? Boy did I have a lot of expectations to live up to.  
  
Suddenly Jesse yanked my away from him and did a quick scan of what I was wearing. His arms dropped from my shoulders and he looked away. I could see a faint tinge on his cheeks.  
  
I looked down at my attire and cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"It's not that bad, is it?" Jesse looked down briefly, against his will, then jerked his head back up again and turned his head away. The tinge was growing darker.  
  
I decided to play with him a little. Can you really blame me? Most guys would kill for a chance to see a babe like me – cut me some slack – in only a pair of boxers and a tank top.  
  
"I mean," tugged at my shorts and swizzled on my feet, "I could always change back into my _lacy_ stuff. It's much_ prettier_ and more comfortable than this, I guess. I mean, there's a _lot_ less of it, so I wouldn't get as hot. But, I might get cold every now and then, so what would I do then to warm myself up?" I looked up at Jesse with big, doleful eyes.  
  
I saw Jesse's Adam's apple bob up and down.  
  
I grinned and slipped my arms round his waist. "What do you think?" I whispered up at him. He turned his head slowly and scowled playfully when he saw my mischievous grin.  
  
"You are outrageous," he growled down at me. I blinked innocently.  
  
"Me? I'm just telling the truth. Truthful Suze, that's what they call me."  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
"In my time, ladies covered up. _Everything_ up. They didn't flounce to the beach in their underwear. And even their undergarments weren't so...so..."  
  
"Pretty?"  
  
Jesse scowled. "Suggestive."  
  
I howled with laughter, much to Jesse's chagrin. I patted his cheek sympathetically and turned to crawl under my covers.  
  
"Welcome to my world," and then, because I knew it would bug the heck outta him, I added "babe," and fell asleep.  
  
Now, normally when I dream I can wake up and safely say "Yup, nothing out of the ordinary there." That's because my recurring nightmares of getting lost in Shadowland brought on, with many thanks, by Paul Slater in all his evilness, have slowly faded to be replaced with dreams of Jesse driving me along the winding cliffs towering above the crystal ocean in a sporty convertible.  
  
Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?  
  
In my case, yes. Yes she can.  
  
But this morning when I woke up, I woke up with a bang and sat staring at my wall for several moments.  
  
That is because when I fell asleep, content and smiling with Jesse's presence to reassure me, I fell into a deep slumber of dreams composing of Paul.  
  
These weren't the usual, help-help-that-big-and-beautiful-but-scary-man-is- chasing-me-and-threatening-to-kill-my-already-dead-boyfriend-and-I-know-he- isn't-kidding nightmares.  
  
Oh no. It was much worse. Much_ much_ worse.  
  
I was standing in Shadowland.  
  
I gave a bemused and annoyed sigh and looked around.  
  
Nothing.  
  
But I couldn't get rid of the feeling that someone was watching me.  
  
"Hello-_o_!" I called out, half hoping that someone would answer. Half scared that someone would.  
  
And then I was lying down. My back was pressed onto a cold, damp floor and the fog was gliding around and over my body. Then the fog disappeared and a warm light replaced the cold darkness that Shadowland consisted of. I was now lying in grass and staring up at a blue sky and a large, friendly sun.  
  
"Nice day for it, huh?" I whipped my head to my side and found someone lying next to me, his face turned up towards the sun with his eyes closed and a smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Paul, go away. I was enjoying myself."  
  
"And who says you can't enjoy yourself anymore? Heck, I bet I could make it even more enjoyable," he turned his towards mine and the smile grew.  
  
"Whatever," was all I said as I turned my head back to the sky and closed my eyes. Can you tan in dreams? I hoped so.  
  
A large, obtrusive shadow cast itself over my whole body and I opened my eyes to find myself staring up at Paul's. He was lying on top of me. And you know that look, the wolf-spotting-dinner one?  
  
It was back.  
  
And this time, the rabbit was cornered with no way to escape.  
  
"Don't you just love dreams?" He asked me. "You can really let yourself go in them. No need to carry that ever-nagging conscience with you. You can do whatever you want. Cos in dreams, you're on your own. No judgements. No worries."  
  
I frowned up at him. He was right...I guess.  
  
But I couldn't see what he was getting at.  
  
"So?"  
  
Paul shrugged. "That's all. No worries, no cares. You can stop thinking, and just be." And with that cleared up, he lowered his head and kissed me. I was still wondering over what he had just said.  
  
His lips were soft and gentle and I found myself closing my eyes to their power. He was right. In dreams you didn't have to think. You could just be.  
  
Then I thought of Jesse. Where was Jesse in my dream? He was supposed to be here. I pushed at Paul's shoulders.  
  
Then bam. I was in a sporty convertible. The wind was whipping my hair behind my face, the sun was warming my body, and my smile was wide and filled with joy. I stretched my arms up and tilted my head further up.  
  
"Having fun?" I whooped and cheered as we went whizzing round a sharp corner. I glanced at Paul. He was smiling and looking incredible hot behind that steering wheel. He looked like he had just stepped out of a TV advert for the latest, sleekest sports car model.  
  
I let my arms drop to my side and snuggled back into the head rest. "This is the life..." I whispered.  
  
The scene changed again.  
  
Paul was sat on a chair in an empty classroom...and I was sat on him. Kissing him. Running my hands through his hair. Gripping his waist with my thighs as he gripped my closer to him, mashing our bodies together as his hand applied pressure in the small of my back. His other hand was speared through my hair.  
  
His hand fisted in my hair and he tilted my head back. His hungry lips trailed a scorching path down my neck to my collarbone. My hands were all over his chest, running up and down all the contours. Then they were running over the smooth muscle between his shoulders and his neck. My nails were tracing patterns along his skin as my hands delved under his shirt.  
  
And then one of my hands started trailing lower and lower... It was at the waistband of his jeans...  
  
And I woke up.  
  
I was breathing hard and I could still feel his body. I could feel it pressing up against every inch of mine. I could feel him between my legs, under my hands. I sat shocked, staring at my wall.  
  
Sure, in dreams you can just be without and worries, but what happens when you wake up?  
  
The thing is...I didn't feel any guilt. I could only feel...well, pleasure. I shook myself. There must've been some mistake. It must have been Jesse in my dreams. Not Paul. But the harder I thought, and the harder I remembered, Paul's face just got clearer and clearer. And the memories of his kisses, his lips, his tongue, his hands, they all burned on my skin.  
  
I leapt out of bed and pelted into my bedroom. I dove under my shower and plunged myself into the cold water. I could practically hear the sizzle as the cool droplets hit my skin.  
  
I got ready for school, still in a state of shock. It was just a dream, I reassured myself. Just a dream. And strangely, that seemed to settle me somewhat. My nerves didn't feel as frazzled, and my mind stopped its racing as we arrived at the Mission Academy.  
  
It was just a dream. Everyone has them. I'm no different. Just because it wasn't of my boyfriend, that doesn't make me a bad person, right?  
  
Right. I'm normal. I can't help it.  
  
It's the hormones. Just the hormones.  
  
"Suze, have you seen Paul?"  
  
"What?" I yelped. "No! Why would you think that? What are you trying to insinuate? _What do you know?_" I gripped CeeCee's shirt with both hands, holding her face close to mine. My knuckles were turning white.  
  
"Jeez, Suze. Calm down. What, did you have a caffeine overdose or something?" CeeCee plucked her shirt from my hands and set herself in front of me, one eyebrow arched speculatively at me.  
  
"No, no caffeine overdose. Sorry. Don't know what happened there," I giggled nervously.  
  
"Guess who's has the most guilty secret in the world?" I turned on Adam and practically screamed _"What?"_  
  
He slowed his pace and skirted round me so he was standing behind CeeCee.  
  
"I-I was only saying that...that I found out Kelly's been getting some French guy off the internet to do her homework... That's all, I swear!" His eyes were wide and he was shaking behind CeeCee.  
  
I had my fists curled so tight my hand was turning white.  
  
"Sheesh, Simon. What's going on with you today? And don't say PMS cos it's the wrong time of the month and usually you just trip your brother up or flick ink at Kelly and her cronies if you are PMS-ing."  
  
My fists uncurled themselves and I flushed with mortification. "Thanks, CeeCee. I really appreciate discussing my menstrual cycle in front of Adam." Not that it mattered. At the mere utterance of having the painters in, Adam had turned a shade of green and fled to his locker.  
  
CeeCee continued to stare at me.  
  
I gave an exasperated sigh and flung my hands in the air in an _'I surrender'_ kind of way.  
  
"Fine! I just...I just had a bad night, that's all," I cut one last look at CeeCee then strolled to my locker.  
  
"It's more than that." I jumped as CeeCee's voice appeared behind my open locker door.  
  
I gave a little growl and slammed my door shut, revealing a patient, assessing CeeCee.  
  
"I had a dream...or rather, a couple dreams. And they freaked me out." When CeeCee merely stared some more I reluctantly expanded. "They were about Paul."  
  
CeeCee's eyes widened momentarily and a glint appeared in them. She grinned wickedly.  
  
"Suze Simon, I hope you weren't doing the dirty with that mongrel!" Seeing as I couldn't exactly deny it I remained quiet, stonily staring at my shoes.  
  
I heard a shocked gasp. "Susannah Simon! I am appalled! And a little curious, how was it?"  
  
I looked up at CeeCee. "It was a dream!"  
  
She just cocked an eyebrow. "So? Doesn't stop it from being any good...or any bad..." She grinned wickedly and I couldn't help a small smile tug the corners of my lips.  
  
"Well, we _are_ talking about Paul Slater here..."  
  
CeeCee nodded understandingly. "A teenage god, dream boat, sex on sticks..."  
  
I nodded in agreement. "Exactly! So I think it's safe to say that I expected a certain level of...greatness," I lifted my eyebrows and CeeCee carried on nodding.  
  
"Obviously," she said.  
  
"But man, I sure as heck wasn't expecting that level of...greatness." This was a lie. I have, on numerous occasions, been groped and snogged till my lips were bruised and battered, by the god that is Paul Slater. But CeeCee didn't know that. And she didn't need to know that. So I was planning on keeping my mouth shut.  
  
CeeCee fanned herself and blew out a gusty sigh. "I know what you mean. The nights I dream about Adam and-" She stopped short and turned a shade of magenta.  
  
I grinned and winked. "Your secret's safe with me." 


	4. Humiliation Is The Name Of The Game

**Disclaimer:** Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regrette rien. Je ne m'appelle pas Meg Cabot ou Jenny Carroll. Je suis...une autre femme... Mais, qui... ?  
  
**A/N:** OK, this chappie is really pointless and boring and crap. I wasn't having a good day. I apologise.  
  
**Nice Hayley:** Of course I'm gonna clear up why Paulie-waulie can't be joined with his (want-to-sink-your-teeth-into) body. God, who do you think I am? Some amateur writer? I will also be telling you HOW Paulie-waulie will be reunited with his body...if he can. Doo doo doo doo...  
  
**Mystique Angelique:** NEVER MIND ME MAKING YOUR DAY, YOU TOTALLY JUST MADE MINE!!! AAAW! Aren't you just the cutest? Hahaha, in answer to your autre little question, all you need to remember is: Delilah knows all, and sees all.  
  
**UnangelicHalo:** I go on MSN all the time, I think you're avoiding me. I may have to kill you. Nah, don't be silly. I'll send someone else to do it for me. Moowahahhaa...  
  
**PoeticKiss:** Hahaha! I am sorry you are confuzzled!! I honestly don't know how to explain it anymore. For some OBSCURE reason, Paul is trapped in the ghost-like form after shifting and is unable to return to his body. So it is up to Suze to find out why this has happened...and how to resurrect Paul's real body, before he gets trapped in the ghostly form.  
  
**Athena884:** I haff no idea vether or not Suze vill fall in luff vith Paul. I haff no idea at all. It's exciting, no?  
  
**Ameroni:** You will from now on be referred to and called, "Pepperoni Girl". Got it? Or "Pizza Chick" when I'm feeling particularly odd.

* * *

During first period Father Dom called me to his office over the speaker system. Talk about embarrassing. I knew Father D was gonna call me to his office sometime during the day, but not halfway through my English class when we were all in sat in silence contemplating effective methods of creating a tense in moment in a novel.  
  
Yeah, cos it's always been my dream to write a thriller and get it published.  
  
One minute it was complete silence as the collective class was actually contemplating how our teacher, Ms Rosen, could afford the vast amounts of hairspray she used on her hair everyday on a teachers salary, the next moment, Father D's normally soothing voice was echoing out over the scratchy speaker system saying, "Could Susannah Simon please report to my office. Thank you, Susannah."  
  
And then he was gone. And silence ensued. If it wasn't bad enough that Father D used my full name in public, let alone in front of me, everyone in the class turned to stare at me, some sniggering unsympathetically and others quirking their eyebrows up at me questioningly. CeeCee rolled her eyes and Adam was too busy snoring, face-first, on his desk to notice the thick, awkward silence that clung around me.  
  
I blushed furiously and struggled up from my chair, grabbing blindly at my books and wildly sweeping them into my arms. My hair was falling in front of my face and I was thankful for the temporary shield. I was sure my blush didn't compliment my Mocha Mist eye shadow.  
  
Talk about embarrassing.  
  
Just as I was thinking, _Well, it can't really get any worse than this_, Ms Rosen crossed her arms over her chest, leant onto her desk and said wryly, "Take your time, Miss Simon. We're in no hurry."  
  
The class snickered and my facial pigments went on overdrive.  
  
I finished picking up my books and stormed out, swinging my bag into a chortling Dean Morelli as I passed him with enough force to knock him clean off his chair and sprawling onto the floor.  
  
And then I was free.  
  
I swear to God, the air outside tasted sweeter and lighter.  
  
I leant against the wall and breathed out a sigh. Father D was in big trouble! Could he not have come and got me at lunch or something? Instead of humiliating me in front of everyone!  
  
I stalked past reception and into his office.  
  
"Never do that again!" I threw myself into my usual chair and extracted a toy from his drawer of goodies (all the illegal objects that Sister Ernestine and her cronies have managed to catch and confiscate.) Today was a tamagotchi.  
  
I pressed the little buttons and started a game.  
  
"Do what, exactly, Susannah?" I glanced up at him and cut him a sharp look.  
  
"Embarrass me like that!" When all I got was a furrowed brow from him I expanded. "Everyone was staring at me when you called me! I mean, sheesh. They already think I'm a big enough freak as it is, especially with me disappearing to your office all the time. And then you go and call me in the most patent, _unsubtle_ way. You can't just come up to me at lunch and _discreetly_ ask me for a quiet chat. _Oh no_. You have to let the _whole school_ know I've been playing up!"  
  
I pressed the tamagotchi's button ferociously and huffed back into my chair.  
  
"But you haven't been playing up, Susannah," Father Dom said. He looked confused and I gave an exasperated sigh.  
  
"I know that! But they don't! They're just gonna automatically presume I'm in trouble! It's not good for my image."  
  
"Susannah, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Your fellow classmates will still think you worthy of your role as Vice President."  
  
Now it was my turn to be confused. Who cared if people didn't want to vote for me because they thought I was a crackpot? I was talking about my street cred being in danger here.  
  
I decided to humour Father D and not correct him to the modern, twenty first century standards and expectations. His world he was living in, his poor, misguided world, was probably a nicer place to live in. The harsh realities of today would probably give the good Father a coronary.  
  
"Now," continued Father Dom as I played with the dinky computer-generated mutant animal toy in my hand. "I know that you and Paul have seen each other." I wrenched my head up.  
  
Surely Father D didn't know about my dreams? Uh oh.  
  
"And I know you two would probably have put your heads together -"my mouth dropped open "- so I just wanted to know if you two had got any work done?"  
  
I gaped at him. Heads together? They were more than just together, if I remember correctly... which I did. The images were vivid movies, tattooed on my mind. I just didn't realise they were tattooed where everyone else could see them too...  
  
"Although it is rather unfortunate for Paul to be in this predicament, it is quite good to be getting some hands-on experience. Which you seem to be getting plenty of."  
  
My heart had officially stopped. How could Father D be so lax and casual about this? I was jailbait! I was an innocent young girl, to Father Dom, anyway. It was immoral, what Paul and I were doing! And here Father D is - vicar and servant of the good Lord, follower of all that is good and pure and clean – _encouraging_ Paul's debauching of me!  
  
And then the pieces fit together. Father Dom wasn't _condoning_ this typical teenage activity that usually stirs discomfort of its rawest form in him, because he thought I was moving on from Jesse! I mean, to Father D, a live guy – even if it is the devil himself – is better than a dead guy.  
  
I jerked out of my thoughts and realised Father Dom was still talking.  
  
"Back in my day, I never had such things." Boy, did I know it. "I never had the chance to learn by all these hands-on experiences." Excuse me? Was he saying he wasn't any good in the- No. That's just too gross. "You really are a lucky girl. All these exorcisms, and now this revelation about shifting..."  
  
I fell off my seat when I realised Father D was talking about ghost stuff concerning Paul, not about my lips and Paul's lips, and his body and my body. My heart came thudding back to life with a shotgun jerk and I felt like kissing Father D on his tissue-like skin on his forehead.  
  
He stood up and peered over his desk at me. "Are you quite alright, Susannah?" I grinned.  
  
"Better than alright, Father D." He frowned and carried on from where he left off, settling his small frame into the large, cushioned throne of a chair.  
  
"Now this Paul condition has come along, I'm beginning to think this is a great learning experience for you. Who knows, you could even write a book about it! Help others like you."  
  
I stared at Father Dom in shock, horror, revulsion, and amazement.  
  
"Yeah, Father D, cos I'm pretty sure tonnes of publishers out there are gonna let me publish _that_ kinda book. '_Mediating and Me'_, by Susannah Susan – the good guide to getting rid of ghoulish ghosts. Get a free brochure on Shadowland and plan your next holiday when you buy a copy."  
  
Father Dom gave me a reproachful look. "Well, maybe not publish a book. But perhaps a website?" When all he gained from me was an eye roll, he continued with a tone of annoyance. "At least you'll have some power and knowledge to pass onto your children."  
  
I dropped my tamagotchi and choked. Children? Man, I hadn't even got to thinking about my future as far as what I'm going to do when I get home, let alone whether or not I'm going to have children.  
  
"But have you and Paul discussed what is going on with him? He told me he had no idea what was happening with him. He didn't even know how he had got to be that way." I frowned. Hadn't Paul told me how he had turned into a half-ghost?  
  
Yeah, he had. So why hadn't he told Father Dom? I presumed he had his own good reasons and told Father Dom I had no idea what was happening to Paul, and that we hadn't made any conclusions so far. I felt kinda bad lying to a priest. But it's not like I haven't done it before. I was already reserved a first class room in hotel Hell, why bother trying to repent now?  
  
Father Dom leaned back in his chair looking disappointed. "Oh well," he sighed, "I'm sure we'll figure this out." I gave a wan smile and stood up to go.  
  
"I best be off, Father D. As much as I love our cosy little chats, I do come to school for a reason other than to talk with you. Lessons mean something, nowadays. They're actually considered quite important."  
  
Father D shooed me out of his office and I walked down the breezeway. A _bleep_ from my hand brought me out of my quiet stupor and I looked down. I was still holding that damn tamagotchi. An image of a small, freckled child crying his heart out at the loss of his tamagotchi came into my head and I sighed dejectedly. Guilt was something I did not want on my conscience.  
  
I turned slowly and reluctantly round and my nose brushed against soft material covering hard, solid muscle. The scent of delicious, distinctly masculine aftershave drifted up my nose and I closed my eyes. It was yummy. It was cosy and cool at the same time. I resisted the urge to throw myself at the chest and body in front of me. It was just so welcoming...  
  
Whoa, talk about hormone rampage. I was getting hot flushed just standing in front of a guy. I slammed my eyes opened and realised I was fantasising about a guy I hadn't even seen the face of. I looked up, not really wanting to be disappointed, even though I was madly and deeply and irreplaceably in love with a dead guy.  
  
Not something I really want to go around admitting, even in my mind.  
  
My eyes dragged up, over the concrete chest, along the broad shoulders, up the smooth-skinned throat and onto the face of none other than Paul Slater.  
  
Why wasn't I stepping away from him...?  
  
"I didn't know you were the maternal type," he smirked down at me.  
  
"What?" I yelped. In my head I was repeating, _Step away, step away, step away, step away...  
  
_Paul nodded towards the frantically bleeping tamagotchi in my hand. I looked down and noticed it was shaking. My hand, I mean. Annoyed, I pressed a button furiously and the stupid thing shut up.  
  
"Or not..." said Paul with a grin.  
  
"I prefer real live ones," I said. Paul cocked his head and his grin grew.  
  
"Oh?" He gripped my arms in his hands and gently turned me round so my back was brushing against his chest. I decided to ignore the buzz that sent shivers up and down my spine when his large, warm hands touched my bare skin. _Static shock_, I assured myself. "Then what's that?" Paul was referring to a small girl gazing up at me with large eyes.  
  
She was dead.  
  
"It's not mine, that's for sure," I said stupidly. Well obviously. Unless I'd been partaking in some extra-curricular activities my mom would most certainly not approve of. I knelt down to her level. "Hey," I said softly. "What's your name?"  
  
The girl continued to gaze at me with round blue eyes. Her wavy chestnut hair fell to her waist with a cream Alice band perched on the top of her head. She was wearing a dated peach dress with frills along the short bell- bottom sleeve cuffs. She raised her thumb to her mouth a seated it inside sucking gently and all the while keeping her eyes on me.  
  
I was instantly taken. I had melted the instant her big blues met mine.  
  
She was adorable with a capital A.  
  
She reached out her non-thumb-sucking arm and stroked my hair. "Pretty," she murmured. I pecked her on the nose with my finger and she smiled shyly. "And the same to you, too," I said gently.  
  
She raised her eyes to Paul and then dragged them back to me. Even little girls are impervious to his charm.  
  
"If you're my mommy, is he my daddy?" I almost fell backwards off my heels.  
  
"I'm-I'm not..." But the girl had disappeared. I stayed where I was staring into empty space.  
  
"Suze?" I heard Paul whisper behind me and I abruptly stood up, brushing myself down. I turned to face him and again came nose-to-chest with him.  
  
"I get the feeling this is gonna be a hard one to solve," I shook my head wisely. "As they say in the business: never work with kids or animals."  
  
"She going to become another one of Susannah Simon's charity cases?" Said Paul with some scorn. I glared at him.  
  
"Oh, what? You think I should just leave her? Just leave this poor little girl to struggle in a world where no one can see her and any dead person could hurt her? Or, wait. I could always give her to you and let her become one of your little minions. God, Paul. Do you have no compassion? She's a _little girl_."  
  
Paul frowned at me but is eyes were soft.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled. "And I _do_ have compassion. I was just being stupid," I rolled my eyes and Paul grinned. I put my hands on my hips and tilted my chin up stubbornly.  
  
"What are you doing here, Paul?" Paul leaned to left and leant against one of the breezeway's columns.  
  
"I go to school here, Suze."  
  
"I don't know how to point this out to you, Paul. But you're not exactly all here, at the moment. And I'm talking physically. God knows you're not all there mentally all the time. But this is a little more serious than just being crazy. Cos now, you're a crazy half-dead person."  
  
Paul frowned but remained undismayed. "I know. But that doesn't mean I don't miss it." He kept such a straight face I had to laugh.  
  
"Why are you _actually_ here?" Paul pursed his lips and tried to hide a smile.  
  
"Because I'm nosy," he said in an amused tone.  
  
"Because you're nosy? Because you're... Oh my God!" Paul grinned outright and looked so full of life it was hard to imagine he was trapped in a hell with only me to help me.  
  
"Had any nice _dreams_ lately, Suze?" His eyes twinkled and he crossed his arms. I felt a blush sweeping up my neck and tried to scowl to cover my _utter and horrific humiliation.  
  
_"You have been invading my privacy! You can_not_ use your new powers for evil! I swear to God, the next time you listen in on one of my conversations I will exorcise you so fast you won't have time to even _think_ of repenting your long list of sins!"  
  
Paul peeled himself off the column and strode casually toward me, as if he was innocent as pie and I was the one full of sin.  
  
As if.  
  
Dreams aren't sinful...are they? I recollected mine and blew out a sigh. Hooh boy. They certainly were in my case.  
  
"So...I was good, was I?" He peered down at me intensely and I let my gaze skitter around, anywhere but Paul's face.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about. I only told CeeCee that so it wouldn't ruin her fantasies of you. That's all. I was lying." My heart was telling a different story, judging by the way it was pounding indignantly against my ribs.  
  
"Sure didn't feel like you were lying. Not when you were kissing me and touching me like you were," Paul scowled at me, I don't know why he was the one who was annoyed. It wasn't like he was lusting after someone while already in love with someone else.  
  
Cos that's all I felt for Paul.  
  
Lust.  
  
Probably the most powerful and dangerous of the seven deadly sins. To me, anyway.  
  
You would think God would give me a break, after me having to go through all this kafuffle of dealing with lost souls, some of which were violent, and most of which were generally unhelpful to the fullest extent. I mean, I'm putting my life on the line hundreds of times over for the big guy upstairs, effectively doing his job. I'm one of his minions. Like Paul has. Not that Paul is a god. But you know. He is someone with undeniable – and inescapable – power. Like God. Who isn't giving me a break when I fully deserve one.  
  
And it's not just me he's upsetting or putting in danger. You've seen how my mom's reacted with my numerous scratches, broken bones, concussions, detentions, suspensions, police-related incidences – the list goes on. She basically doesn't deal with them well. So that's another person God is upsetting. And endangering. How many ghosts have I had to deter from harming my family as methods of getting what they want in life – or rather, death? How many threats towards my family have I had to endure with horror so concentrated I've had nightmares about the angry ghosts coming back and doing off with my family just like they promised they would if I didn't help them? And it's not just the dead ones, either! Oh no. The live ones are just as bad.  
  
So you would think I deserve a holiday from all this stress. Or at least, a weekend break to a spa.  
  
But no. Instead God throws at me _this_. Paul Slater. Another hurdle to overcome. Another obstacle in the course of Susannah Simon's already difficult – understatement of the year – life.  
  
I took a deep calming breath and said slowly and steadily, "You were controlling me. You were the one who manufactured the dreams. I had nothing to do with it. You were living out your own unfeasible fantasies in my usually PG dreams."  
  
"You could have easily escaped, Suze. And you know. You could easily have dreamed up lover-boy to come and save you. Or you could have dreamed a dream without me in it. I only implanted myself there. You did the rest. It was only when it was getting really serious that you escaped and woke up. So do _not_ deny it."  
  
Paul was standing scarily close, his rushed breathing tickling my cheeks, his rapidly rising chest sweeping against mine with every movement. And still I avoided looking at his face. I stared at his collarbone, on show through an open V-necked tennis T-shirt. Even with an unearthly glow he had a rich tan.  
  
He reached out and, before I could react, had a hold of my chin. For such a firm grip, he sure did lift my chin tenderly. Now I had no choice but to look him in the eye. He was lowering his head towards mine which made it look as if he were about to kiss me...  
  
...When the forgotten tamagotchi bleeped. It cut through the atmosphere like an axe and I grabbed at the merciful interruption.  
  
"Oh look, I forgot to take it back. Best be off to do that now. I don't wanna be any later for my lessons..." I stepped away from Paul and we froze as our eyes locked, then he as gone. And I sprinted back to Father D's office, threw the tamagotchi to him, then sprinted back to class and sat in a world of my own for the rest of the lesson.  
  
My mind was racing with thoughts of Paul and the little girl. 


	5. Introductions And Pleasantries

**Disclaimer:** Do you see me saying I'm Meg Cabot?

**A/N:** OK, my minions of doom, i am going to Italy with my friend for 5 days, so i may be unable to update soon, as i am also going to Cornwall with my family _- shudders - _BUT, i will actually be writing down my next chapters in my new best friend - my huge gigantic A4 kick ass notebook. so do not fear.

Can i just tell you the FUNNIEST thing that happened to me? I was out shopping in Gap, and ages ago i bought some boxers there that were green with little sheepies on them. So i was in Gap with a loada frends and this mum was making her son take off his top and try on something in the middle of the store - cause enough for me to laugh. So the guy pulls his top up and flashes us a bit of flesh. His boxers are pulled up way above the waistband of his low-riding jeans and what do i see? MY BOXERS. he was wearing my green with sheepies boxers.

Needless to say i pointed at him, screamed "MY BOXERS! YOU'RE WEARING MY BOXERS!", then laughed hysterically.

**SweetestReject:** Aw, i'm glad you liked my last chappie. I hope you enjoy this one, too.

**Nice Hayley:** You don't need to go to an institution for laughing at your computer screen, my dear. You're just naturally certifiable. Through no fault of your own, I'm sure. You're just plain, plum crazy! But then, aren't we all? No. It's just you nice Hayley.

**Brittany:** A strong Suze-Paul fan, eh? Shocking. But totally acceptable. Who said anything about Suze ending up in his strong arms? And I'm not saying she's gonna end up in Jesse's either. Wouldn't it be funny if a NEW guy came along? Or, perhaps, Suze discovers she's a lesbian? Ew. No. There is no way i could write that. At least, not while keeping a straight face. (No offence any lesbos out there, I am totally for gay relationships. It's just not for me. You know. But hey, whatever floats your boat!)

**UnangelicHalo:** You won't stop reviewing. Empty threats. You talk the talk, but you don;t walk the walk... Wait a minute! Keep that mouse away from the X in the corner! DON'T YO DARE CLOSE THIS SCREEN!!! DON'T YOU--

**Allimba:** Wow, another weird name. Seriously, do i give out this message that says, "Come, odd named little people, come and review my story..."? I am, however, glad you are enjoying all the lusting and the loving that is going on.

**Naomi:** Hello! Bout time you reviewed!!!! (and i'm glad you are enjoying, thank you for your support!! although, yo should totally write your own stuff on here, you know you would rock at it)

**Enelya Tinuviel:** Now THAT is a complicated name. Do you guys all go to a complicated name convention? If so, can i join?

* * *

I sat in my daze for the rest of the lesson and wandered round in the same condition for the rest of the day. All I could think was that Paul could control my dreams.  
  
How?  
  
As far as I knew, ghosts couldn't enter my dreams of their own accord, they had to be, well...dreamed up. Did it have something to with, then, the fact that Paul was a shifter? In which case, does that mean he can appear in my dreams when fully...capacitated? I mean, if he could, then maybe I could too...?  
  
All these thoughts contributed to my zombie-like state and, when I got home and had grabbed a snack of an apple and diet coke, I sat on my bed and tried shaking the thoughts and questions out of my head.  
  
Literally.  
  
I sat cross-legged and shook my head violently. No such luck. I opened my coke and took a long, deep draw. You can't beat a coke to cool your nerves. Or give you a sugar buzz.  
  
Can you believe they used to actually put real coke – as in cocaine – in coca-cola? Back in the old days, I mean. Seriously. Obviously it was banned. All these doped up people wandering round with bloodshot eyes and paranoia... must've been quite cool, come to think of it.  
  
Not that I was into drugs. Oh no, no, no. I've had enough just-say-no lectures to last me a lifetime and to get the message firmly in my head that DRUGS ARE BAD. Yeah, like I hadn't already figured that out by living in New York and watching late-night bust-'em-up cop shows. No_ way_ would I want my face on one of those shows, with my skin pale and my eyes all gross and red. I think I'll stick to toothpaste adverts, thank you very much. So no snorting Charlie for me, no nose candy to lighten my senses.  
  
Although, with a profession like mine, you'd think I'd deserve _some _kind of relief like that.  
  
There was a dip on the space of bed beside me. Turning my head, I saw it was Jesse.  
  
"_Buenos días, querida_," he greeted cheerfully. I smiled weakly and, turning my head back to staring at the wall, took another gulp out of my can.  
  
"Is something wrong, Susannah?" Jesse's concern brought me reluctantly back to reality.  
  
"Just thinking," I said. I could sense a frown appearing on Jesse's forehead.  
  
"About what?"  
  
I shrugged. I couldn't exactly tell him about my dreams. "This new ghost appeared today..." I trailed off when my snack – the apple – drifted across my line of vision. "Jesse, is that you doing that?" Immediately images of Paul snapped into my head.  
  
"No, it is not I doing that," Jesse said. Then he added, "I do not perform parlour tricks."  
  
"Sure you do. Paul, if that's you then quit it. You've been a big enough pain in the ass, I would like a little relief at home, if it's not too much to ask." I waited in anticipation for Paul to appear.  
  
Instead I heard a tiny giggle and the little girl I had encountered earlier that day appeared.  
  
"Hello," she said chirpily. She handed me the apple. Her gaze fell on Jesse and she turned to me with an adorable pucker on her brow. "I thought that other man was your husband. My daddy."  
  
She was standing at the foot of the bed looking from Jesse to me as we sat on it, staring back at her.  
  
"I don't have a husband. And-" I had no idea how to put this gently "-I'm afraid you're not my daughter."  
  
She frowned at me harder then looked at the floor. "Oh," she whispered. She gave a sniffle. "I'm scared..." Her voice was so soft and tiny it was more of an exhalation of breath. But I heard.  
  
I leapt off the bed and crouched next to her, taking her delicate hands in mine. She looked through her fringe at me, her enchanting eyes were brimmed with tears.  
  
"Don't be scared," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice – one I don't use often. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you."  
  
I could feel Jesse's eyes trained intently on me. I nodded towards him. "He's going to help you too. He may look tough, but he's a softy inside. Like a kitten."  
  
Jesse was anything but a kitten. When I first met him, I had instantly classed him as dangerous. Even with his scar being the result of a less than heroic (and slightly disappointing, I might add) dog bite, he still had the look of someone you didn't want to upset. With his dark, opaque eyes that, when he wanted, could reveal no emotion and act like mirrors. And his size and _well-toned_ body didn't do anything to deter the image of danger, either.  
  
All this aside, though. Jesse was a softy. He was kind, considerate, and thoughtful. He showed the utmost etiquette and politeness towards everyone who deserved it, and he always showed heartfelt emotion, whether it was concern or love.  
  
_Especially_ love.  
  
That didn't make him a kitten. Jesse never purred, for one thing. And believe me, I had tried my best to get him purring. He was actually more of a fox. When he was happy, he got kinda sly and playful. You could tell he was happy, but boy. He always put my happiness before his, if you get what I mean.  
  
The little girl leaned towards me, hands still captured in mine. "He looks like a pirate," she whispered fearfully, with wide eyes.  
  
I laughed and Jesse bristled.  
  
"Think of him as a cowboy," Jesse bristled even more and I hid a smirk. "Cowboys are nice. They rescue people. Especially pretty little ladies like you." I tapped her nose and she wrinkled it and smiled.  
  
Most of the time, my spectral buddies are mad, bad, and generally not someone I want to scoop up in my arms and squeeze possessively. They were never cute and small and innocent. They were usually big and mean and oh-so _un_-innocent.  
  
And don't get me wrong, I like kids. Most of the time. Well, okay. Rarely. Like when I had to babysit at Pebble Beach Resort. That was kinda like hell for me. But I do occasionally stumble across a kid that I think is cute and wouldn't mind taking home in my pocket. And I want a family of my own, one day.  
  
But this little girl was the most delightful, delectable thing I had ever come across.  
  
"Will he help you take care of me?" She said with a shy glance towards Jesse, her voice was so small and hopeful it was like a delicate butterfly escaping from a dark place. I couldn't get over how adorable this little ghost was.  
  
"You better believe it." She turned her head to look at him and – I almost died of shock – Jesse winked at her! The girl giggled and buried her head in my shoulder.  
  
I stared at Jesse in bemusement. He just grinned back at me.  
  
Ever the ladies man. No woman would ever be able to resist him and his charm. And I should know.  
  
The girl retrieved her face from me Ralph Lauren sweater set and said, "My name's Bethany. What's your name?"  
  
"I'm Suze. And he's Jesse." Bethany nodded then reached out her hand to touch my hair.  
  
Then she disappeared.  
  
I sighed. I mean, how do you tell a six year old she's croaked? And why does she think I'm her mom? I stood up and took a preoccupied bite of my apple.  
  
"She seemed nice," said a voice from my bed.  
  
"Yeah. I wonder what she wants. And how she died." I plonked my butt next to Jesse and looked at him. He seemed like he was in a good mood.  
  
His eyes had the colour, texture, and warmth of melted chocolate and they were sparkling with delight. It seemed as if a smile was stuck on his gorgeous lips and no matter how hard he might try, it would never fade.  
  
Not that he seemed to mind. Or me, for that matter.  
  
Well, I could think of a few things that would wipe that smile off, though. Like telling him about my dreams, for instance.  
  
But I wasn't going to be doing that anytime soon. Preferably, never.  
  
It was just so nice – him smiling. Whenever I saw that smile, or those eyes filled with a certain _je ne sais quoi_, my heart skipped a beat and then sped up uncontrollably. And then, suddenly, I find a smile spreading irresistibly like warm butter across my face. And he seemed to glow more. Brighter and warmer, when he was happy.  
  
Or maybe that was just the light dimming outside.  
  
Proof of my superhuman powers: the fact that I wasn't leaping at him and clinging to him like a baby koala clings to its mother, and never letting go. Having to go to Mass and a Catholic school contributed somewhat, too.  
  
Instead, I just sat there and grinned at him, taking in his broad shoulders, noticeable biceps, deeply ridged abs, and long muscular thighs... And his face wasn't bad either.  
  
Understatement.  
  
Jesse shuffled closer to me on the bed. "What are you so happy about, _querida_?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing, _señor_ de Silva," I grinned back at him.  
  
His smile grew. "_Sí, señorita_?" The way he said that señorita – in a deep, low rumble that resonated masculinity – sent shivers of pleasure across my skin like one of those water-ski insects that skim across lakes in summer. And then, if his ploy in capturing my heart and soul wasn't complete enough and rendering me into nothing but I pile of feminine Jell-O, he bent closer to me – so close his mouth brushed against my ear and his breath whispered against my skin –, his concentration solely on me, and he murmured some Spanish vernacular in my ear.  
  
My brain may not have understood – though in its state at that moment, even if Jesse had been speaking slow, plain English I still wouldn't have comprehended it seeing as my brain seemed to have taken a paid leave to go to the Bahamas – but my body sure did. At least, judging by the way it was reacting.  
  
My breath was short and my eyes were slowly closing...  
  
"I hope you're not saying anything I wouldn't like," I managed to mutter through a haze of bliss.  
  
Jesse pulled away and my eyes drifted reluctantly open to look into his. They flashed at me and he grinned wickedly.  
  
"Oh no," he beamed, "I am sure you'd like it." My breath caught and he leaned in, his lips floating closer to mine.  
  
Sometimes, I think my life is great. This would be one of those times. No big bad ghoulies to ruin this. Just me and Jesse. My life could be a movie. I bet I could actually make a lot of money from it. I mean, it's not like anyone would suspect it was real. They'd just read the script and think, _Wow, this gal's got some imagination_. Then they'll bring down their puffing cigars and lean back in their chairs. A whole table of large suits, assessing me. And they'd say, _You're gonna be big, baby. Larger than life!  
_  
And then I'd be rolling in money.  
  
Yeah. Right. Like that's ever gonna happen.  
  
I think I'll stick to enjoying the moment as it is in the present. And right now, I've got a lot to enjoy. Especially with Jesse's lips, locked on mine.  
  
It was amazing to think, only a few months ago, Jesse was conservative, gentlemanly (not that he still wasn't) and usually refrained from any physical contact with me. And he was _never_ this playful or frisky or teasing...  
  
_Not_ that I'm complaining.  
  
I liked to think it was because I had come into his life. That I had influenced him and modernised him with my dazzling Metro-girl personality. You can't deny that I am on top of my era, almost ahead of it. I know everything there is to know about the latest Kate Spade designs, and Mr Choo's latest revelations in what looks hot in the world of footwear.  
  
What I really think is that Jesse's been waiting for one hundred and fifty years to relinquish this passion and care in his personality, and I was the key to that locked door.  
  
I settled myself onto my bed, lowering myself to a lying position under the force of Jesse's lips. Not that it was forceful hard. But I was practically swooning under the power of the kiss – no change there, then – and I didn't think I would b able to stay upright for much longer.  
  
Not that Jesse seemed to mind. My swooning, I mean. He lowered himself with me, never breaking our kiss. We've had quite a few of these kinds of kisses and fumbles ever since we realised we were both in love with each other and managed to – in a less than dignified and organised manner – become conscious of the fact that our love was reciprocated by each other...  
  
Complicated, I know.  
  
I tell you what, though. For a guy who came from an age where you weren't even allowed to snog your husband or wife unless it was strictly business – ie. making babies –, he sure knew a thing or two about the sinful act. Snogging, not making babies. Sheesh, I'm not that kinda girl, alright?  
  
Another reason I reckon Jesse's so...enthusiastic all of a sudden. In a good way, of course. No protests coming from this corner of the boat! But Jesse's like this because I'm fresh. I'm new.  
  
We've always known I was unique, and I'm not talking about my mediating thing, here. I am, of course, referring to my personality. I'm modern, and that's different for Jesse. I have liberated him from the bureaucracy of nineteenth century etiquette.  
  
God. I hope that's not the only reason Jesse's in love with me. If he even is. What if he only kissed me because I'm the only chance he'll get at getting-  
  
No. That is not it. That is so not it. If it was, would Jesse be kissing me with all the vigour and love he was now?  
  
I think not.  
  
Contented by these thoughts, I melted back into my pillows.  
  
Jesse pulled back suddenly, frowning down at me. _Crap_, I thought with alarm. _He's realised he does prefer the less forward, less easy ways of the hoopskirt-clad girls from his time and he's gonna move on. I knew I shouldn't be so slutty, I knew I shouldn't-  
_  
Jesse propped himself up on his hands and looked around sharply.  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
Jesse's body had tensed like a cat's. "I thought I felt a presence." He stared intently at the window seat. "I still do."  
  
OK, I was a little freaked out by this. Someone was perving on us making out? Gross. I propped myself up on my elbows while Jesse leant over me like a tent and peered around the room. It was the safest I'd ever felt, trapped between his arms with his lower body on top of mine.  
  
"Bethany?" I called out tentatively. Jesse looked down at me after a silent pause.  
  
"It doesn't feel like Bethany." I stared up him.  
  
"You mean ghosts have different flavours?" Wow. And I thought I knew ghosts down to a pat.  
  
"Do you feel anything, _querida_?" I concentrated.  
  
"All I can feel is you lying on top of me. No objections, I'm just stating at fact. The only thing I feel is you. On top of me." Jesse smiled and rolled off me and off the bed. I heaved a sigh and slumped back into the pillows. Little buzzes of satisfaction flickered through me, and weights of disappointed that Jesse had got off me and stopped our make-out session pushed down on me.  
  
"Is it my turn now?" A voice tickled in my ear. 


	6. Bathtub Fiasco With A Hint Of Paul And A...

**A/N:** Sorry it's been such a long time! But i got a HUMONGOUS writer's block and i didn't have a laptop and, you know.... I also went to Italy with my frend. But i now have MSN on my mobile so i can access my emails WHEREVER I AM... MOOWAHHAHAHAAA.

and especially at school, so if i get bored during science - which i undoubtedly do - i can just go read Fanfic.

anyway, here's my usual thank you's and oddnesses to my usual readers:

**mediatorgurl:** umm..... i think you just insulted me on my chappie 5....i really don't know what to say......i think i'm gonna go cry now, though........thank you for the kiss information though ;-D

**Nice Hayley:** i think a PB and J diet sounds a bit iffy to me.... although it does explain a lot about you. Especially you the goatness in you. WHAT IS WITH THE SUDDEN FOOD OBSESSION??? Oh, and my friend reminds me of bacon rashes. and my mom reminds me of corn dogs. WHY??? WHY DOES EVERYONE REMIND YOU OF FOOD? you have issues, gurl. serious issues. even more issues than moi, and that, m'lady, is saying something.

**SweetestReject:** I apologise for making you crazy. But i assure you, i am already halfway through the next chappie, so it shouldn't be too long til i next update (making up for taking so long to update)

**MystiqueAngelique:** You worry me.... Need i say more?

**N Ashton:** What does the N stand for? Or is it really embarassing? Like... Nellie? Or... Nobby? Or... Nobolina? When you get your results, feel free to tell me...... I am actuallly interested. Yes, people! I do have some compassion! And yes! I can be serious SOME of the time! So stop looking at me like that. (I'm always glad to get new reviewers, by the way! So i will be treating your reviews with extra special care and attention. And if you get a loada jealous, murderous looks from my other reviewers, well. I'm sure you'll get over the mental scarring.) Whereabouts in Engerland are you from?

**Allimba:** Wow, for someone with such a complicated, weird name, you sure do leave short reviews. Thank you!

**Pens in potatoes:** Tory! what a funky, REAL name. (sorry i took so long to update, i know how annoying that is...HINT HINT HINT TO LOLLY AND BUNNY GIRL1)

**Anna S:** What a LOVERLY, PLEASANT surprise! You never publicly review! I'm honoured and touched. You will always be the diamond reviewer of my heart. I'm also starting to like Jesse a bit more. But that may be cos i'm changing him. He always struck me as a bit limp and weak and sappy and with very little personality. But I think I'm changing that for the GOOD. And i have no idea when the plot will thicken. i have no idea how to lengthen out this plot! I'm paranoid it's gonna be really short and boring and dull! And what reputation? I haff no rrrreputation. I am just MOI.

**Esodes08:** What was with the "Maa! Maa!"???? Are you a goat? Why would you think a 6 year old little girl is evil? I think someone's been watching too much TV. Next you'll be telling me that the rain is actually God's pee as he relieves himself. And that's just plum crazy. It's Jebu's pee. (Jebu is my god).

**Enelya Tinuviel:** Do you KNOW how hard it is to type out names this CRAZY AND LONG??? Sure, i could just copy and paste, but then i dont remember your names and that makes me feel BAD! WHY CAN YOU NOT JUST USE A REGULAR, NORMAL NAME??? WHAT IS WRONG WITH NORMALACY????????????? weirdos. (please don't take offence and stop reviewing) Have you been talking to Manda (Esodes)? BETHANY IS A LITTLE GIRL!!!!! NOT SATAN!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think it's perfectly normal to feel nothing for Monsieur de Silva. For, not only is he dead, he is also fictional. And kind of a wuss. Paul, however. Phwoar. Girl's like to be bossed about, sexually intimidated, and we all like a bad boy. Which, frankly, Jesse is the complete opposite. He does not boss about, he does NOT insinuate sexual innuendos ANY TIME, and he is SOOOO not a bad boy. So do not worry, fair reviewer. You are perfectly normal. In some ways. In other ways, you're a nut job.

**Naomi:**You scare me even more than Lolly. And Lolly is Australian!!!!! That means, technically, she should be even more odd. What with her digaridoos and her dingos and wallabees. You're not Australian are you, Naomi?

**Em:** Em? Is that all? Em. Em...ily? Em....ma? Em....mahunkadingal?

**UnangelicHalo:** That boxer story was true! It had me laughing on the floor....but then the security dudes came along and told me i had to leave. Bless them. Bless their little black-shades-and-butch-body eyes. Bless them.

**xxStar:** Like the review.

**meghan:** COOOL!!! YOU COME FROM COLORADO!!!! and THANK YOU for remembering to put WHERE IN THIS WORLD YOU COME FROM! I'm sorry i havn't emailed you....i kinda forgot......BUT I WILL!!!!!!! Omg, i feel really bad now....... i just read your review and thought, aaaw, she is so nice. then i thought, crap, i can't email her now cos i gotta read the other reviews, but i will email her later. and, i guess, i kinda....didn't. (You can have Paul...but first, i think you better worry about fighting off a coupla other people.....)

**BloodyRayne:** Derek? Qui est....DEREK??? Please explain your love for him. (unless he's your bro in which case...I'm sorry and EW at myself) And you CRIED cos you were out of COFFEE? Now there's withdrawal for you....

**IF YOU'RE READING THIS AND YOU HAVEN'T PREVIOUSLY TOLD ME WHERE YOU COME FROM, OR YOUR AGE, OR ANY OTHER INTERESTING STUFF YOU THINK I MIGHT WANNA KNOW - THEN TELL ME!!!!!!!!! merci.**

**hahahahhaahahhaa. MADNESS.**

* * *

So the mysterious presence wasn't so mysterious anymore.  
  
At least, not to me. Jesse hadn't heard Paul's sarcastic tone. He sounded pissed off, too. And jealous. Not good news for Jesse. Or me. But nice, in an odd kind of way.  
  
Give a girl a break! It's nice to be appreciated!  
  
Unfortunately, these emotions in Paul were the overall concoction for a bad- ass Paul. And a powerful, semi-dead, pissed off Paul was worse than a live one. Now half-dead, he had superpowers and strength. Superpowers and strength to exorcise Jesse with ease.  
  
"Stop spying on me, you perve," I growled out of the corner of my mouth so Jesse wouldn't see or hear. "Go get your cheap thrill some place else."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Paul in a completely insincere voice. "I didn't realise I was interrupting anything."  
  
Before I had a chance to snap back a retort, Jesse whipped round with an animalistic snarl.  
  
"Slater!" His voice rumbled like thunder and resonated fury. Paul materialised and his mouth was set in a grim line with the corner tipped up in bitter amusement, as well as all the emotions mentioned above. Jesse's eyes flashed and a muscle in his jaw leapt.  
  
They took a step towards each other, dwarfing my room with their size and emotions. My mirror shook and my door knobs rattled.  
  
"OK OK," I said as calmly as I could. "That's enough of that. There will be no fighting in my room or house again. In fact, no fighting at all." I made a firm gesture that I thought represented my finality on the matter pretty clearly. I turned to Paul. "Paul, stop provoking Jesse." I swivelled round to Jesse. "Jesse, stop rising to the challenge."  
  
Paul and Jesse continued to glare ultimate death glares at each other that would have even Superman and Spiderman shaking in their skin-tight boots. I continued when neither said anything. Paul and Jesse, I mean. Not Superman and Spiderman. Although, come to think of it, the comic book characters were a lot like the two guys standing in my room. Except, to my knowledge, none of the superheroes had a dark side to him, unlike Paul.  
  
Plus they were both fully alive and kicking.  
  
"Now I think we should all take a couple of deep breaths," I proceeded to do so. Paul and Jesse remained stock stil. Not that taking deep breaths would have done much for them, what with both being...well, breathless, shall we say? But that's what my mom's therapist told me to do, back in New York. And some of the time, it actually worked.  
  
Not all of the time, however.  
  
"Paul, I think you should go away and stop interfering in my life."  
  
Paul slowly turned toward me, his eyes not leaving Jesse's until the last moment...when I thumped him on the arm for taking so long to turn attention onto me.  
  
"I'm not leaving until we've sorted a lesson, Suze. You're not going to escape me just because I'm not all here," He winked at me and indicated to his ghostly form and otherworldly glow. I grimaced.  
  
"Paul, you're never all-here even when you are alive," I tapped my temple meaningfully. "How about, instead of shifting lessons, we concentrate on getting you fully alive again?"  
  
Paul grinned warmly and his eyes twinkled. "Revealing you care for me in front of cowboy here? Wow, our relationship must be evolving."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Dream on, Paul-" I immediately regretted my choice of words and felt a blush flood my skin. Paul's grin widened and warmed, and his eyes danced. I gave a small cough. "I just don't like the idea of your brain being coupled with ghost powers. It's like giving Avril Lavigne a microphone. So how about we discuss this at school, hm?" I glared at him dangerously, daring him to say no.  
  
Paul gave me one last wink and dematerialised. Leaving me with Jesse.  
  
I started humming, plucking at my sheets with sudden interest. All at once I had a bad feeling about being left alone with Jesse. He would want to talk, obviously. And, frankly, I wasn't in a talking mood. I would never be in a talking mood, when it came to Paul. All I could feel was the silence. I looked up to check if Jesse was still in the room.  
  
He hadn't budged an inch. His dark eyes were even darker and trained laser- sharply on me. I threw my gaze down and concentrated on my plucking with ferocious intent. My humming sped to a manic speed. Finally, I cracked.  
  
"Alright, alright! I give up! Enough with the CIA interrogation techniques! I admit it. I. Have. Been. Having. Shifter. Lessons...with Paul. There. Happy now?" I threw away my sheets and huffed. Sheesh. Anyone would think I had broken the law, or something. When really, all I'd been doing was protecting my boyfriend from being sent unwillingly to purgatory.  
  
I should be given a prize, not the good-cop-bad-cop-without-the-good-cop treatment from the afore mentioned boyfriend!  
  
Jesse burst into life, stomping around the foot of my bed in his riding boots, running a large, tan hand through his thick and crispy hair. He was like a Spanish cowboy version or Horatio Hornblower. Only hotter. And dead. But real.  
  
"I told you to stay away from that-" Jesse proceeded to call Paul something I'm sure his mother would not have approved of.  
  
"Well, no offence Jesse, but that whole stay-away plan sucks. I go to school with the guy! He's in some of my classes and he stalks me! It's like The Bodyguard but creepier!"  
  
A moment of puzzlement caused Jesse to scrunch his nose and brow up before he continued his tirade. "In that case I will just have to follow you when you go to school. For you own safety." Jesse crossed his arms and stood firm, his chin tilted at a stubborn, defy-me-if-you-dare angle.  
  
I dared.  
  
"No way! No, no, no, no, no way in hell are you going to follow me round everyday. I do not need my very own Kevin Costner in this version of the movie. Paul most of the time leaves me alone at school anyway. Well, not really alone. But he doesn't bother me. Well, he does bother me. But he doesn't...Oh no, wait. Yeah, he does. OK, but it's not like he...Oh crap, it is!"  
  
I cut off my ramblings and looked up Jesse. "The bottom line is: I do not need my boyfriend following me around all day 24/7. Capisce?"  
  
Jesse gave me a sceptical look. Okay, so I never said I was lead speaker for the debate team and I never wanted to be a criminal lawyer, but I made my point. I persuaded him. Sort of.  
  
After a moment of intense interrogation of me by Jesse's eyes, in which he seemed to be looking at something buried deep inside my mind, he gave a short nod. "Fine. I'll leave you be at school. But I want to know about these shifter lessons."  
  
I breathed a long sigh. I can do this. All I do is tell Jesse that these lessons are vital in my mediator training. He's always going on about my 'interesting' methods for mediating. He should be pleased in starting to take my job seriously. And I'll just forget to tell him about the part where I'm saving his life. Or death. Whatever. And I'll happen to skip past the part where I often get sexually harassed and sexually assaulted by my teacher.  
  
When I told Jesse, however, he let out a huge snort of laughter. This was followed by gales of hysterical laughter, showing his obvious amusement at my speech.  
  
I stormed past him as he bent over, clutching his stomach with tears streaming down his face as he giggled unstoppably.  
  
As I barged past him he tried to contain his all-too-clear hilarity by reaching out to me – still bent over and clutching his aching sides – and breathlessly called my name. I slunk past him and into my bathroom, slamming the door and trying to bounce it off his forehead. I crawled into my bathtub and sat there scowling at the taps with my back against the cool tiled wall.  
  
I could still hear Jesse giggling.  
  
Eventually, he stopped. "Susannah," he called silkily through the door.  
  
"Go away," I shouted back. I heard him give a small chuckle, much to my indignation. As if sensing my scowl growing and my lips thinning, he hastily turned it into a hacking cough.  
  
After several repeats of calling my name coaxingly in that irresistible, seductive voice he saves for catching me off guard and dismantling my defences, and no answer from me, Jesse turned to thunking his head against the door.  
  
"You can't stay in there forever, querida," he wheedled.  
  
"True," I said. "But I can ignore you when I have to get out."  
  
There was a moment of silence...then, "Querida!" But I was stronger than that. I could ignore the shivers sent racing through my body when his smooth voice melted on my skin like honey. And I could resist the urge to fling open the door, grab him by his revealing shirt, throw him onto my bed, and let my most base, carnal urges take over my mind and body.  
  
Because I was strong.  
  
Didn't stop it from being hard, though.  
  
I was so caught up in the thoughts of what exactly would happen if I let my most base, carnal urges be relinquished, that I didn't register Jesse's, "Fine. If you won't come to me, then I'll come to you."  
  
It didn't register until he was sat opposite me in the tub, his long, lean legs bracketing mine. I almost had an embolism right there. "What are you doing?" I screeched, instinctively reaching my hands up to cover my boobs and squeezing my thighs together, bringing my knees up. It took a moment for it to sink into my tiny stunned brain that I wasn't actually taking a bath, therefore wasn't actually in my nudies.  
  
"I'm coming to talk to you." As if that explained it all. Which, I guess it actually did. It's just that...well, no guy's ever invaded my bathtub – with me in it, no less – just to talk to me. He shuffled his cute Spanish butt a little to get comfortable and ended up edging closer to me to get his taps out of his back, giving them a quizzical look. Back in his day, they didn't exactly have the kind of sanitation equipment we have now. I mean, I guess they had faucets and stuff. But not shiny, silver-plated, Star Trekky taps.  
  
We were like two hippos trying to fit into a Mini. Not that myself or Jesse resemble hippos, by any far stretch of the imagination.  
  
"You came in here to laugh at me then lecture me," I paused when Jesse wriggled around some more. "I could have been naked!"  
  
Color tinted Jesse's cheeks and I smirked. Although, he wasn't embarrassed enough for my liking, if you know what I mean. I wondered what, exactly, he would have done if I had been naked. And if he had considered the fact that I could have been in my birthday suit before he had so rudely entered.  
  
But he was still pretty embarrassed. Ironic that the only guy I wouldn't mind seeing me naked is probably the only guy in modern times who doesn't even dream about seeing a fine young woman like myself naked. He's the only guy who doesn't gaze lustily at the Victoria's Secrets billboards, or hide a stack of nudies in his sock drawer. But I was working on it. Not the whole gazing lustily or hiding nudies thing. I mean the getting-over-the- fact-women-don't-wear-knicker-boxers-or-hoop-skirts-and-cover-up-every-part- of-their-bodies-even-when-it's-seventy-outside thing.  
  
And boy, was it difficult.  
  
Every time I went to the beach in my bikini, Jesse would avert his eyes and blush with humility on my behalf. Or I would catch him scowling at the skimpy things when I was busy crimping in the mirror.  
  
"I didn't really expect you to start undressing, to be fair. You don't shower until after dinner usually and I can't think of any other reason why you'd..." He trailed off and reddened with mortification at the thought of thinking about me getting naked and being naked.  
  
I rolled my eyes and lowered myself slightly to get more comfortable. I think my mom made sure my bathtub could only accommodate one person at a time. Yeah, cos it's real likely I'm going to have guys asking to take a bath with me.  
  
Jesse stared at me intensely for a moment.  
  
"What?" I demanded.  
  
"Why are you taking shifting lessons with Paul?" I opened my mouth to reply but Jesse quickly cut me off before I could even utter a word. "And don't go on about that rubbish of 'taking your job seriously', I want the truth this time."  
  
I can honestly say I couldn't think of a single lie. I could not think of a way of scamming myself out of this trap. I mean, I couldn't very well tell Jesse the truth. How wussy would that sound if he ever met a male friend? "Oh, I'm only here cos my girlfriend is saving my butt repeatedly". And we all know how proud men get when it comes to their delicate, over-inflated egos.  
  
I didn't want to upset Jesse. His pride would be hurt, and he'd be annoyed that I was risking myself for him. Although, Jesse seemed to have this misconception that it was my life I was risking whenever I was around Paul, and not the truth that it was actually my virtue I was risking. But I think if I told Jesse that, he would be even more mad and murderous towards Paul.  
  
"Um, well... Paul just thought it would be a good idea –" Jesse snorted and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like "duh". But I must have been imagining it. "If I made myself stronger, mediating and otherwise. Believe it or not Jesse, but Paul does care about me. Sorta. He doesn't want me to get hurt by angry ghosts, so he's helping me. And I don't want to get hurt by angry ghosts. So I accepted his offer." I focused my eyes on the scar running through Jesse's sleek black eyebrow.  
  
He realigned himself so his eyes were level with where I was staring, leaving me with no choice but to look him in the eye.  
  
"Tell me the truth, Susannah."  
  
God, mind read much?  
  
I gave a dejected sigh. "Fine. I'm taking shifter lessons with Paul because we made a deal that if I took them, he wouldn't harm you in any way, including exorcism. So basically, if I stop my lessons, Paul will be free to reign whatever terror he wants to. Which means he will exorcise you and then I will have to go kick his butt. And, Jesse," I looked up at him with big pleading eyes. "I don't want to have to go kick his butt because I know I'm gonna break a nail and mess up my hair." Plus I didn't want to do be arrested for murder, but I didn't think Jesse would think that was very deep of me. In fact, it sounded kinda shallow and selfish.  
  
When Jesse didn't say anything for a minute I started to get worried. "Jesse?"  
  
He looked at me and his eyes were hollow, there was no usual warmth or smile. Just emptiness and black.  
  
"You're taking lessons with Paul to keep me from being exorcised?" I nodded, a little dip forming between my eyes.  
  
"You're risking your life – and remember, Susannah, it is you who actually has a life – to keep me from being harmed in any way? You're putting your life in the hands of Paul Slater...for me?  
  
I nodded. And Jesse let rip. A torrid of Spanish spewed from his mouth and I could feel it burning into my skin, like poker-hot snakes were slithering up and down my flesh. He sprang from his sitting position and towered over me, his face dark and thunderous and anger sparks practically flying from him.  
  
And then he disappeared. Just like that.  
  
I sat in the tub for a minute longer just staring at the taps. But he didn't come back. Completely weirded out, I rose from the tub and went to my bedroom. I didn't have much homework so I felt completely useless and bored. And it was all Paul's fault.  
  
Seriously. Before he had interrupted I had been having undeniable, indisputable fun. With Jesse.  
  
And then after Paul went, I was left sitting on the end of my bed listlessly swinging my feet. See? It's all Paul's fault. When is it ever not?  
  
That guy is just incapable of not being a huge pain in the –  
  
"Well, hello." I gave a squawk and tumbled off my bed.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here? Go away! Shoo!" Paul lent down and offered me his hand. I took it and, with as much dignity as I could muster, I pulled myself up and brushed myself down.  
  
"You called me, Suze. So I came." He raised an eyebrow as if confused by my state of confusion. Because I was confused. I didn't call Paul, that was for sure. I told him in so many words.  
  
"Sure you did, Suze." I ground my teeth together and took a calming breath. Slapping him was not the way to go. Although it sure was tempting.  
  
I stared up at Paul stolidly and enunciate clearly, "I did not call you, Paul. I did not say, 'Paul, I need you' or 'Paul, please come here'. I was just sat on my bed thinking about..." My eyes widened and I trailed off.  
  
Holy cow. I had almost admitted to him I was thinking about him! Imagine what would happen if I had finished my sentence? His ego would have probably exploded. Not to mention the teasing... Sheesh. I had come that close.  
  
But it's not like I was thinking about him in the wrong way. I was thinking about him in a purely biblical sense. If you call it biblical when you want to slap someone silly.  
  
Unfortunately Paul had not ignored my abrupt sentence ending. He grinned and took a step closer to me. Obviously someone hasn't heard of a little thing called 'personal space'.  
  
"You were thinking about me? Aw, Susie, Susie, Susie. You developing feelings for me? Or, no, wait. You're finally learning to accept those feelings. Wow. If I'd known being half-dead could bring me such treasures, I would've done it a long time ago."  
  
Is that a bang I just heard? Was that his ego exploding?  
  
"Whatever Paul. I was actually thinking about how annoying you are and why you insist on trying to ruin my life."  
  
Paul opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off with an impatient hand gesture. "Now that you're here, I want to ask you more about your..." I waved my hand in his general direction. "Mini death stunt."  
  
Paul raised his eyebrows but sat down next to me when I plunked my bottom on the end of my bed. "Stunt?" He asked.  
  
I did a mental eye roll. "Fine. Theatrics then. Picky, picky, picky." I surreptitiously shuffled an inch or two away from his dominant form. "I want to go through those newspaper articles and stuff at your house. See if there's anything there that could help us with your predicament."  
  
Now don't get me wrong. I wouldn't willingly go to Paul Slater's house even if there was a Prada sale going on there. But it seemed I would have to willingly go to Paul Slater's house if there was a chance it would lead to his re-establishment into the material world, and the end of his unshakable annoyance.  
  
I figured there had to be something in all of Doc Slaski's notes about shifters getting stuck between worlds whilst in the act of shifting. And to get to the good Doc's notes, I would have to go to his and his grandson's house.  
  
The latter of which seemed thoroughly delighted.  
  
"Sure, Suze," he responded in a sceptical voice. I frowned at him. Why was he sceptical? What, did he think I actually wanted to be forced to go to his house? Did he think I was using it has some kind of excuse to...  
  
Realisation his me with such a force I choked.  
  
"No!" I practically screamed. Practically because I was still choking. "I do not want to go to your house for any other reason than to get you off my back!"  
  
Paul smirked even more. "And you think by going to my bedroom with me, you'll get me off your back?"  
  
I felt fire crawling up my neck and across my face. "I meant...What I mean to say is...That is...Paul! I am going to your house – to your bedroom – to look through your grandfather's notes. That is all. There are no social – or sexual – implications on my behalf as to why I am going to go to your house and to your bedroom." I folded my arms and scowled at him.  
  
He appeared thoughtful for a while, staring back at me. Then, "In your randy dreams about me, did we ever make out in my bedroom?" When I just gaped at him in shock he added, "Or yours?"  
  
I jumped off my bed as if I'd just sat on Spike the cat. "They weren't randy!" Paul raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, okay. They were a little...sensual" – Paul snorted – "but they weren't randy. And they weren't even true. They were fantasies that you installed in my mind. And we all know fantasies never lead to reality. Except in fairy tales. And, in case you haven't realised, my life is no fairy tale." Thank God. I can't stand most animals, let alone talking animals – or singing animals! – which all fairy tales seem to boast.  
  
Paul stood up slowly and stepped close to me, tilting his face down to my upturned one, his eyes set on my mouth. "I could make your life a fairy tale, princess."  
  
And he lowered his head as if he were about to kiss me.

* * *

**OK, here's a new thing to tell me in reviews. You don't even hafta review my story, but you could click review and just tell me this info. It's just nice to know who's reviewing so i can read your stories. **

**Anyway. Tell me stuff you can put on the end of "holy". Like, when you say "holy cannoli" (thanks, Nice Hayley).**

**AS WELL AS TELLING ME WHERE YOU COME FROM.**


	7. Moonlight Stroll On A Less Than Enchante...

**A/N:** OMG!!! I just read the whole of my Never the Normality a.k.a Trouble Love story, and IT SUCKS!!!! I laughed through all the serious bits and cried through all the normal bits it was so bad! HOW CAN YOU HAVE LET ME GET AWAY WITH SUCH CRAP?????? I don't sound like any of the characters!!!! It's hilarious. It truly is. I am sat here laughing and crying at the same time. I'm like some snorting hippo. How attractive.

AAAAAAAAAAAW!!!!!!!! I went on Meg Cabot's book club and, very subtley, advertised myself (stop screaming! I am not a story whore! I don't get paid...) and you know what the response was? I'm gonna tell you because frankly, my head isn't quite big enough yet. They said:

**"delilah gigglesworth u da bomb gurl! and ya story occupational hazards wuz off da chain gurl! so creative and so awesome! ya gotz 2 keep writing! ya gotz 2! i luved it! it wuz fabulous!"**

**"lol i know! i just finished reading occ. hazards, its SO GREAT! omg i luv paul in occ hazards! hes so hot!"**

That is what they said. Plus more. And most of it is thanks to _**Lolly**._ Who shamelessly flaunted several of us Fanfic authors' talent. Don't get excited, ladies. I'm talking about their writing abilities. Honestly, you've been reading too much Paul/Suze fanfics. But...but Lolly...WHY DIDST THOUST NOT ADVERTISE THOUSELFST? Moron. But, fear not, FOR I WILL DO THAT.

And stop saying "Nooo, noooo. Donnae do that, lass." In your funny accent. "Donnae do that. Gimme a haggis and I'll be fine, lass." But i will ignore you. And not only because i can't understand what you're saying because of your funny funny accent. I will ignore you because YOU ARE A KICK ASS WRITER. (And you, Hayley. I'm not forgetting you. Wherever you are.)

Anyway. Enough of that. Here are my acknowledgements:

**Heidigirl:** HEY! Did you go on Meg Cabot's book club and write about being in Land of the Holey Cheese without the other 2 Where-R-U books? Cos if it was you, then I can TOTALLY sympathise with you.

**Alexis de Silva:** Howdy! And, by the way, i thought you Americans INVENTED the word "randy". It means - saucy, horny, cheeky, sexy. Cheekiness. Go spit out your chaw, gal. And ride 'em coyboys! I MEANT COWBOYS!!!! AND I DIDN'T MEAN RIDE THE COWBOYS!!! I FORGOT TO PUT THE COMMA IN!!!! I SWEAR!!!!

**mediatorgurl:** I like the name Sam. No joke. I am going to name my baby Sam. Whether it's a girl or a boy. I am in favor of girls having boys names, like Chris and Sam. But not George. Too Enid Blighton-y. (What state is TN? If it is a state... Is it Tennessee? In which case - DO YOU HAVE A FUNK-ASS ACCENT?) And i wasn't angry at your criticms. I do actually respect you freaks and your opinions. SO DON'T APOLOGISE. It should be I, humble Delilah, apologising to you for not pleasing you with my writing. (Criticisms are welcome, fair munchkins, by the way!!!)

**Gen. Kenobi:** HAHAHA! You cheeky, devil, you! And no, i am not an internet pervy! Naughty monkey. I am 14 (15 in September) and i am a lady. I'm just sick of England and want to travel and am curious to know as to where you guys come from. I would love to go America. So you know. I am gathering info on that topic. BEWARE AMERICANS!!! Pennsylvania sounds like a groovy place, so i will forgive you of your cheekiness. And if you're thinking, "Well that biased bitch thinks all of America is cool! Stupid cow" then you are wrong. I am against lots of states in America. And cities. But unless you tell me you are from one of these pits of hells, i am not mentioning any names as yet... (I'm hoping this is incentive for you to tell me where you come from....until then....the tension mounts....)

**SweetestReject:** You drama queen, you.

**MystiqueAngelique: **Oh God. When people say things like "I can't stay long", you expect the review to be, oh i dont know, on the shortest side? THAT'S WHAT YOU EXPECT. But oooooooh nononononono. Instead, i get PAGES of review. PAGES. Thank you for revealing bunnygirl1's real name. BIANCA. How do you know everyone's real name? It's scary, Lolly. Scary. And a little bit stalkerish. You are a scary girl. I've said it before and I'm not gonna stop now. You are just a little bit odd and scary.

**UnangelicHalo:** _"Ooh. Lolly told me, that when she told you something, that I can't say in this review, in case of wandering eyes, she said, you said " Aww, boring!"  
Haha.  
Oh yeah. She was in a bathtub. Well I gotta go now."_ Need i say more? You, my dear, sweet, once-innocent friend, have been spending too much time with Lolly. You odd people. You scarily odd people. Kat Kat Kat Kat Kat. Oh dear.

**BloodSoakedTiger:** What is it with the blood? Vampire, much?

**Anna S:** ANNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My favourite person!!!!!! No seriously. You are. As well as Jingalingablingamingawingazingagingaking. And yet you'll say, "No Emily. That's just the drugs talking," WELL I HAVEN'T TAKEN MY PILLS TODAY! SO PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND BUUUUURRRRRN ITTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!

**Hauntergurrl:** AAAAW! Hello! ACK ACK ACK. Sorry. Furball. whistles a happy tune

* * *

I pushed him away the instant his lips touched mine.  
  
Or, at least, a couple of instants later.  
  
I placed my hands firmly on his chest and pushed him back. Our lips disconnected and I could almost hear a pop. I stood firmly and scowled at him. "Sorry, you're still a frog. Obviously no prince in you." I winced as my voice came out breathy and low.  
  
Paul just grinned. "Maybe we should keep on trying..."  
  
Shaking my head and putting my hands out in a "Stop in the Name of Love" motion, I backed a step away. "Uh-uh. I think you should go now."  
  
Frowning, Paul started to argue, "Suze..."  
  
"I'll be at your place at about seven tomorrow. OK? Buh-bye now." He stood frowning for a little while longer, then dematerialised. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.  
  
Why couldn't Paul be an ugly obnoxious guy? Why did my life always have to be so difficult? Because Paul was certainly no frog. However, he wasn't exactly what I would define as a prince, either. Jesse was a prince, though. He was a prince all the way down to the fact that he rode horses and wears big boots. A true prince. And Paul is the ogre, the wolf, the dragon, the ugly stepsisters (minus the ugly). But he is certainly not the prince.  
  
Andy called up announcing dinner. After I'd done the dishes and flung my share of insults at Brad I went out for a walk. I know, I know. Susannah Simon, going out for a stroll on a moonlit night? Has hell frozen over?  
  
No. Because then Paul would be a Popsicle.  
  
I went out because I felt like it. How many nights do I take advantage of Carmel's beautiful weather and skies? I always just sit at home, doing my homework, reading magazines, calling friends. Or I actually go out with my friends. But even then, I'm still being lazy. Going for coffee or going to the movies. I figured I owed Carmel something.  
  
It had nothing to do with the fact that I was going to detour to the cemetery and see if Jesse was by his gravestone. Nothing at all.  
  
I stepped into the warm night and felt instantly refreshed. The sky was clear, it was quiet and peaceful, and I felt safe and nice. Seriously. Nice. Me, Susannah Simon, the epitome of anti-nice.  
  
I felt nice right up until the moment I almost got hit by a flashy sports car at the intersection. It blared its horn and I swear I heard laughter coming from inside the car. I took a calming breath, and carried on towards the cemetery. Nothing was going to stop me from at least appearing nice when I bumped into Jesse.  
  
I walked up the path glancing from side to side. It's true that ghosts tend not to hang out at the graveyard – Jesse is the exception – but occasionally you do get the amateur spirit slumming there.  
  
The graveyard was as clear as the sky though, and I strolled up to Jesse's headstone, adorned with a sprinkling of fresh lilies at the foot of the stone, courtesy of me. I know lilies are a kind of girly flower, but I thought they suited Jesse. They were beautiful and pure and, like I said, I thought they suited Jesse to a T.  
  
And that was the only thing by the gravestone. No sign of Jesse anywhere.  
  
I gave a weak smile and heaved a deep breath. I hated it when Jesse just...went. Especially when he was in a bad mood. It's just so easy for him to go and never come back.  
  
And that's my greatest fear: That I might upset Jesse so much he'll leave and never come back.  
  
It would be ironic if he did decide to never come back. The fact that the reason he'd be leaving would be because I was fighting to keep him from being forced to leave.  
  
I left the graveyard with my "nice" feeling dissipating slowly, like there was a mini tornado circling above my head, sucking up my "nice" nice and slowly.  
  
As I left the school and started the five mile walk back (why did I decide to walk this?) I began to hear footsteps behind me. I turned to look, thinking maybe it was Jesse. There was nothing there.  
  
Oh, great. So now cola gives delusional after-effects.  
  
I kept on walking, a little bit more aware of my surroundings and noises around me. But then I heard it again. Heavy footfalls behind me. I whipped round as fast as a cat, and came face to face with an empty street.  
  
I turned slowly around, expecting every suspicious looking bush and tree, and this time came face to face with a rather troll-like man.  
  
His glow informed me he wasn't at his best. In fact, he was dead.  
  
He gave me a slow once-over and smiled an oily smile. I could feel it running through my insides, slicking itself across my body. "You the mediator, swee'heart?"  
  
His wonky nose and black gaps between his teeth set warning signals clanging loudly in my head. His collection of scars that ran through his eyebrow, across his cheek, through his lip and down his neck set of scare signals that clanged louder than the warning ones.  
  
I puffed myself up and hoped my voice didn't waver. "Yeah. And there's no 'sweetheart' about it." He threw back his bald head and laughed. It was creaky and raspy and low. He was about six foot five inches and every inch of it muscle.  
  
I'm about a foot shorter and less than half of it is muscle.  
  
This guys hands were as big as my head. The fact I wasn't screaming for help at the top of my voice was proof enough of my bravery. Or stupidity, if you look at it from a different angle. The angle I know my mom would look at it from.  
  
He reached out a calloused finger and trailed it down my cheek. I flinched back and he gave another oily, sleazy grin.  
  
"I was told to come to you. I was told you'd..." he looked me up and down, "lend a hand." I stood stiffly and fought off a shudder.  
  
This guy was worse than Paul when it came to pick-up lines. I could feel my teeth clenching and my fists curling. Why did guys have to be bigger than girls? Did God not see when he was planning his world that the male species would only take advantage of their build?  
  
"I can help you move on. First: name and situation of death." I added: "Please."  
  
He took a step closer and I retreated half of one. If ghosts could smell, I would've bet you'd get ten for five he smelt of stale cigars, booze, sweat, and blood.  
  
He gave a grin. "My friends called me Stiff-"  
  
"Stiff?" Mom always told me it was rude to interrupt but come on. Stiff?  
  
His grin grew and I regretted asking. "You get on the wrong side of me, that's how you'll end up." Boy did I regret asking.  
  
I gave a dismissive hand gesture to hide the flash of hot bile I could feel climbing up from an unsettled stomach. "And situation?" I knew I was going to regret this even more than the name.  
  
"Wet work," was all he said. I stared at him. He was a painter? A plumber? A kiddies' pool attendant? I almost snorted out loud at that.  
  
I swallowed and squinted up at him, knowing I needed to know the answer to my question – and kinda curious at what wet work might be – but feeling sick at what the answer might be.  
  
"And what, what exactly is wet work?" He traced my hairline with his finger then slowly brought his digit to the centre of my brow.  
  
"Bullet between the eyes," he whispered. "Close range." He gave a push with his finger on my forehead and I stumbled back.  
  
Now I knew what wet work was, and why it was called...wet work. I worked hard on not showing my feelings...and my dinner.  
  
Instead I gave a weak smile. "How lovely."  
  
He lashed out so fast with his right fist I never saw it coming. But, boy, did I feel it. I fell to the hard sidewalk with an audible thud. With black dots dancing in my eyes, I blinked a couple of times from my position on my side. I started to heave myself up when a shadow fell over me and hard hands yanked my shoulders around and against the concrete.  
  
What he had left of his teeth glinted in the moonlight.  
  
I could feel my heart thudding with such force against my ribs I thought I might have an episode not much different from the one in the film Alien.  
  
I stared at him with wide eyes then glowered. "What the hell did you do that for? Get your hands off me!"  
  
I struggled against his grip to no avail and my cheek was starting to throb fiercely. Talk about unfair! First, my make out session was interrupted by my boyfriend's – and mine – arch nemesis, then my boyfriend ups and leaves me, next I'm forced to arrange a meeting with the mentioned arch nemesis, and after that, I find my boyfriend is not where he was meant to be where I could find him which leads to me meeting with an unsightly fellow called Stiff with more scars on his face than spots on a leopard.  
  
How had this evening gone from a dream-come-true to nightmare-on-Warson-Street?  
  
I felt resigned to just let myself get pummelled and possibly killed. But I was wearing a new slip-dress and I did not want it getting creased, stained, or ripped. I paid enough for it. And my head was dangerously close to a suspicious looking plant. I was fully prepared to undergo a pummelling, just not fully prepared to get a rash over my face from poison oak.  
  
So I need old Stiff here in his most male of regions. He gave a grunt and rolled over and off me. I hastily pushed myself up and was just starting to dart off when a thick hand came around my ankle and pulled sharply. I flew as my feet came off the ground beneath me and crashed to the floor again.  
  
A crunch resonated dully beneath me as I landed on my twisted wrist. I knew that was gonna hurt in the morning – it was hurting badly enough now. I was flipped onto my front as my new acquaintance flicked his wrist – the one still holding onto my ankle. My head cracked on the sidewalk and once again, black spots blinked in and out of my vision. I groaned as my head went light.  
  
Knuckles clipped my right cheek again and, again, my head hit the sidewalk with a sickening crack. Not to mention it felt as though my already injured cheek had just exploded.  
  
This time, black dots swallowed my vision, forming one large cloud as I lost consciousness.  
  
Only to regain it about three seconds later. Consciousness, I mean. I blinked lazily as I tried to gain focus. My sharpened vision made the outline of a huge fist, flying towards my left cheek when, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw something sparkle.  
  
So did Stiff, judging by the way he froze and uttered an intelligent sounding, "huh?" as he turned his head.  
  
"Susannah?" I tilted my head and saw Bethany, eyes wide and frightened, hands curled in front of her mouth.  
  
I stared and stared, not knowing what to say or do. Until Stiff made a move to grab her, too.  
  
Then I acted. As Bethany let out an unearthly scream, I threw all my weight into my arm, and my fist exploded against the side of Stiff's head. He let out an angry yell, Bethany let out a sob, and I fell back with a grunt, black dots reappearing all over again as my probably sprained wrist took the power of the impact and my hand crunched ominously.  
  
"Go," I managed to gasp out at Bethany. I had to get her away from Stiff. She gave me one last whimper and tremulous gaze then disappeared, and I had a moment of relief before a backhand to my left cheek brought back the reality – and horror – of the situation.  
  
"Stupid bitch," I heard him rumble and he knelt all his weight on my knee. I yelled as pain exploded in my knee and danced up and down my leg. He twisted his knees and mine went with his, bringing out even more pain.  
  
He stood up and I barely noticed. I clutched my knee and groaned, gritting my teeth to stop the screams and hysterical giggles that were escalating in my throat. And then I felt a foot connecting with my side. I rolled with the momentum and somehow managed to get to my feet, staggering and coughing.  
  
Stiff came looming towards me and I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.  
  
A car.  
  
A car was turning the corner of the road, and heading in my direction. I ran into the road, waving my arms and yelling. Stiff ran after me, and it was he who took the brunt of the car.  
  
Not that it was travelling very quickly. The car, I mean. I fully saw and, as it wasn't travelling particularly fast, it braked fairly rapidly. So it's not like it was going to hit me, or anything. But Stiff was a few feet in front of me, so he got hit by the car. It flipped him off into the middle of the road where he lay, unconscious. For how long, though. The driver – a guy of about twenty years – got out of the car and stared at me with concern and a little bit of fear.  
  
"Are you alright? Did I hit you? I swear, I heard something..." He stared down at his car then at the road.  
  
"I'm sure you were just imagining it," I hastily reassured him. Not hard with a swollen face. "Can you give me a lift home, please?" The man shot his eyes back to me and seemed suddenly startled at my appearance.  
  
"Good God! Do you want...Are you sure you wouldn't want me to take you to the hospital? I'm sure we can call your parents from there," he started walking towards me which was a good thing, as I was pretty sure I was either going to collapse or hurl if I didn't get some support, and soon.  
  
"That would be great," I replied sleepily. I wasn't in the mood to argue, to be frank. And this guy seemed safe and genuine.  
  
His arm came around my waist and I winced as his hand gripped the place where Stiff's foot connected with my side. He escorted me gently to the passenger side of his car and leant over me to secure my seatbelt.  
  
I got a good look at him then and, even though I'm pretty sure a girl in my position shouldn't have been thinking things like I was, he looked good. Like a real Prince Charming. Flaxen-hair, warm hazel eyes with gold flecks in them, and a soft mouth. He smelled of masculine soap, too. It was comforting, in an odd way.  
  
I don't know. Maybe I was just suffering from a concussion.  
  
"Actually," I suddenly remembered as he climbed into the car, "my house is about three miles from here. Maybe you could drive me there, tell my parents what happened, and then drive me to the hospital, with my parents following." In my head I was screaming, parent and STEP-parent. STEP-parent. But I couldn't be bothered to go into all of that.  
  
He gave a nod and started to drive off. He spared a glance in my direction and asked, "How did this happen, anyway?"  
  
I blinked myself from the reverie of pain I had gone into. "Um...How did...? Oh. I got mugged," I managed to get out. Everything was blurry and I was finding it kinda hard to concentrate.  
  
My eyes were slowly closing when I felt a warmth spreading across my hand. I looked down and saw a golden-brown hand gripping it encouragingly. "Hey, no sleeping, alright? I know I'm not the most interesting guy in the world, but I'm not that dull."  
  
In my delusional state, I laughed. He was a genuine good guy. Like Spider-man. And I'm not a bug person, but I really like Spider-man. "What's your name, anyway?" I dragged my eyes from the hypnotic lines on the road to my rescuer.  
  
"Um...name? Suze. Suze Simon. You?" He glanced over to me and smiled warmly.  
  
"James. My friends called me Jim. I'm not sure which I prefer: Jim or James," he gave a small chuckle, "they're both not exactly bread-winning names, huh?"  
  
I smiled and made a noise that might have signified a noise of agreement, or a cover-up noise of pain.  
  
The journey continued with me giving directions and chatting about myself – school, home, shoes. The guy's voice was reassuring and continuously spreading strength and warmth through me.  
  
Then we pulled up outside my house, I went very, very cold.  
  
"Oh God," I choked out.  
  
Jim whipped his head round and reached his hand out to touch me gently on my less-injured cheek. "What? What is it?"  
  
"Please don't tell them how bad it is. I don't...I don't want to worry my mom."  
  
Jim grimaced and said, "I'll try." And then he was out of the car.  
  
To be fair to my mom, she didn't suddenly cling to him, or throttle him, to get more information out of him. She didn't burst into hysterical tears or faint. She nodded sharply, looked over at me with tearful, concerned eyes, then grabbed the keys and Andy, and was out of the house, with Andy yelling something at the house that I'm sure was meant for David, Dopey and Sleepy.  
  
Jim returned to the car, and suddenly we were driving off to the hospital. Jim asking me questions, and me replying feebly, with my eyelids growing heavier and heavier and my voice weaker and weaker.  
  
I don't remember getting out of the car, except for mom and Andy rushing out to help support me, and Jim striding ahead to get the attention of the receptionist.  
  
No one questioned me, or bothered me about what had happened. I went through the usual X-rays, CT scans, prods and pokes from doctors, and soothing words from nurses. Thank God I didn't need stitches. I hate looking like I have a spider trying to crawl out from a gap in my skin.  
  
I was all bruises and bumps, this time. Not even a broken rib! However, I did have a broken wrist, and fractured cheek bone. Not to mention a slight concussion. And sprained kneecap.  
  
Nothing serious. Unless I don't wake up from my concussion, in which case I think it's safe to say there was something serious.  
  
I didn't have to stay overnight in the hospital because my concussion was small and I've had them a few times before, proving my body can take care of itself. And there was no chance of internal bleeding. So they let me off with words of caution and prescriptions for antibiotics – to stop infection – and a variety of pain killers for the different parts of my body.  
  
We walked out of the hospital to the parked car, mom casting sheepish glances over me as she helped me walk, and Andy glaring around, in case my "muggers" came back for more. When we got to the car, we found Jim's still parked next to it, and Jim, leaning against his door.  
  
"Is she alright? No permanent damage, no breaks, or anything?" He stood up when we got closer and looked from mom to Andy to me with deep concern.  
  
Andy filled him in and blinked sleepily at him, thinking how really very nice and truthful he was and how, if I wasn't already involved or zonked out on drugs, I wouldn't mind taking his face in my hands and kissing him senseless.  
  
I blame the drugs.  
  
When he looked over to me with a small smile and said goodbye, I thanked him by shaking his hand, returning his smile, and giving him a peck on each cheek. His smile grew and said he's stop by some time this week to check up on him. And then we were getting into our cars, and driving home.  
  
You'd have thought I would have been able to catch a break when I got home, right? I mean, it made sense that I should be able to get home, climb into my comfy PJs, and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
But no. The doctors at the hospital had informed my mother and her husband that, every hour, they had to wake me up. To make sure I would wake up, and not stay permanently asleep.  
  
So I was forced to climb into my pyjamas, and settle for resting in the lounge on the couch, watching the TV with mom and Andy. I didn't do much TV watching, but I didn't exactly do much sleeping either. And, when daylight finally hit and I had eaten breakfast, I finally got to go up to my room and sleep.  
  
Which I did. All day, and all next night.  
  
I woke to someone softly stroking my cheek. So gently, it felt as if someone was slowly dragging a feather across my skin. At first, because it was so gentle, I thought it was Bethany.  
  
After all, she was the one who had witnessed some of my attack. Then I realised, as I painfully opened my gluey eyes, the fuzzy blob sat on my bed, next to my form, was a bit bigger than a six year old girl's.  
  
So, logically, my next thought was that it was Jesse. And I'm not ashamed to admit a girlish feeling of pride filled my heart. My boyfriend was comforting me even though I looked like a bloodied-up frog. Then I remembered how Jesse had stormed off last night. He could have returned, I reasoned. Somehow, though, the body didn't give off a Jesse feel.  
  
And suddenly it hit me.  
  
Stiff.  
  
I sat up fast and scrabbled to get away. "Get the hell away from me you sick sonofa..." I screeched.  
  
"Suze! Shh, it's all right. It's just me! It's Paul, Suze. Paul."  
  
It did sound like Paul... I frowned and tried to get my eyes to focus. And Paul came into view. I gave a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry. I thought you were...someone else."  
  
I gave a small cough and frowned when it echoed painfully in my head. "What are you doing here, Paul?" I asked. I looked over at my bedside clock. It was three in the morning. Luckily I didn't have to worry about school. Mom said I was having the rest of the week off and – if I was still I a lot of pain – the week after that off, too.  
  
It is hard to write when your wrist is broken and concentrate when you pain is ricocheting off the inside walls of you head.  
  
"I came to check up on you. When you didn't come to mine to help research shifting-sticking, I got a little worried. When I came here, and found you" – he waved his arm up and down my length – "like this, I stayed and sat with you." He frowned slightly and searched my face, "You looked like you were having a bad dream."  
  
I just stared at him. I couldn't remember any nightmare, though I didn't doubt what Paul was saying. I was probably mentally scarred from Stiff's attack. Yeah. Right. Like one more brutal assault to Susannah Simon, toughest girl mediator, was gonna add up to something serious. Mediators are hard to kill, physically and mentally. Goodness knows how hard it is to kill us shifters – probably darn near impossible. I hope.  
  
"What happened, Suze?" I settled back into my pillows when my strength started draining away. Paul tucked my duvet in tightly around me, and unnecessarily smoothed it down.  
  
"I got a spectral visitor while I was out walking. His name was Stiff, because apparently anyone who crosses him ends up that way. And I don't doubt that for a second, now." I gave a self-pitying smile. "I guess I crossed him."  
  
A muscle in Paul's jaw twitched and his eyes flared for a second, but he continued to stroke my duvet with gently trembling hands.  
  
"Luckily Jim came along. He unknowingly hit Stiff when I ran into the street and in front of his car. And the rest is history."  
  
"What did you tell everyone happened?"  
  
I gave a snort. "I said I was mugged. Can you believe it? As if any mortal could do this to me. As if I'd let them." Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn't believe I had been so unprepared. I couldn't believe I had let this happen to me. Again.  
  
Paul stroked a hand across my bruised left cheek. "You're not invincible, Suze. You can't blame yourself for letting this happen. You're not strong enough to fight everyone," he gave a weak smile. "Just me and a couple of other guys who try to make their move on you."  
  
I gave a small smile back. "A girl's gotta have standards, Paul."  
  
"So what exactly did our friend Stiff do to you? What's the damage?" I repeated everything the doctors had told me and watched his face grow darker and darker and I ticked off the list of injuries.  
  
"Did Bethany come to you, Paul?" He looked a bit confused.  
  
"Bethany? Who's she?" I obviously hadn't told him about my newest ghost cutie.  
  
"That little girl that thought I was her mommy and you her daddy at school. Did she come to you at all yesterday or anything?" I hadn't seen her since she witnessed my attack and I was a little bit worried about her. I know TV these days is a lot more accessible and kids are used to watching a lot more racey stuff than usual but still. The smallest thing can set a kid on edge, and an even smaller thing can push him or her off.  
  
Paul looked kinda startled by my question though. "No, I haven't seen her since that time in the breezeway. Why?"  
  
I closed my eyes gently when I started to feel a bit light-headed. I may not have had a concussion, but I was still feeling like a Ming vase floating on a rather unsteady gust of wind.  
  
"She popped in on me when I was getting visited by Stiff. I told her to run but you know, she strikes me as the gentle kind. I don't want to be the reason she's going to be traumatised for the rest of her life," I opened my eyes and did my usual squinting routine to adjust the focus of my vision. Finally everything grew sharper and I looked down at Paul...  
  
...Who was looking at me as if I'd just said I wanted to go on Jerry Springer and announce my secret to the millions of viewers that tune in to watch.  
  
"She's dead, Suze. She doesn't have a 'rest of her life'."  
  
"Oh. Yeah. She still might be traumatised..." I trailed off when Paul's 'are you mad?' look intensified.  
  
"She's a ghost, Suze! It doesn't matter if she's traumatised or not, she's already dead so it's not like it matters! Come on, Suze! When are you gonna stop letting ghosts dictate and ruin your life? You could be having fun! Staying out of trouble, not getting hurt!"  
  
I opened my mouth to argue. This conversation was getting old, and fast. Who was he to say that I shouldn't let ghosts dictate my life when he was trying to just that! I wanted to paint the word 'hypocrite' across his forehead in red pen.  
  
Paul's face rushed towards me just as I was about to tell him where he could stick his 'ghosts are ruining your life'. Next thing I knew, his mouth was encasing mine in a hard and brief – and somewhat wet – kiss. And then he was drawing back just as quickly as he'd attacked.  
  
"Damn. I wish you wouldn't do that," he breathed, glaring at me with warm, smiling eyes.  
  
"Me?" I squeaked, doing a fairly good imitation of Minnie Mouse. "What did I do? You were the one who kissed me!"  
  
Paul actually had the nerve to grin, a little sheepishly, I might add. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah I did."  
  
Eyes glazed over and staring at my mouth, Paul began to lean forward again.  
  
I slapped my hand over his mouth. "Why? Why would you do that?"  
  
"Mmf mmmf," he said against my hand. I took it away and slowly pushed myself up to a sitting position against my headboard. "Do what?" He asked.  
  
"Kiss me!" I said, throwing my hands up in the air. I regretted it when my wrist started throbbing viciously.  
  
The grin returned to Paul's face. You'd have thought even Paul, bad guy in my un-fairy-tale-like life, wouldn't try to take advantage of me in my incapacitated state. "Well, since you insist..." And he leant forward again.  
  
My hand cushioned his lips again and prevented any further Paul escapades to continue. "That was not an order. Why did you kiss me? I'm damaged goods!" My eyes widened with the horror of my next realisation. "I don't have any make-up on and I have..." I trailed off. I was not going to be telling Paul I haven't brushed my teeth in about thirty-six hours.  
  
Paul raised his eyebrows and I lifted my hand away. "You're cute when you're worried. And angry. And confused. You're cute all the time, even when you've been beaten to a pulp." He smiled kindly at me. "So I kissed you. You were doing your adorable 'I'm Suze and I like to argue with everything anyone says when they're saying I'm not a bionic superwoman'. It seemed like a suitable way to shut you up."  
  
I stared at him in disbelief. "You kissed to shut me up? Oh, well now. I feel so much better. I feel so privileged," I crossed my arms huffily.  
  
I may not want romantic liaisons with Paul, but if some romanticism were to occur, I had always hoped it would be just that – romantic. Not as a way to shut me up. Call me old-fashioned, but come on. A girl has dreams.  
  
If all kisses and lovey-dovey gestures were made just to shut a woman up (and I am fully aware that a lot of the above happens for just that reason – guys buy girls flowers to shut them up whingeing all the time), then every girl would have her a boyfriend. Scrap that. Every girl would have a lot of boyfriends.  
  
Paul merely smirked. "You wanna feel privileged? Stick with me."  
  
I rolled my eyes.  
  
Really, what else was there to do?  
  
"You're giving me a headache, Paul. Worse than usual. So can you..." I made some short, sweeping motions with my hand, "scoot away to land of the ghouls?"  
  
Paul shook his head, his glowing fixture casting shadows on my bed quilt as the light danced across the creases and dips and ridges. "Uh-uh," he said. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  
  
I raised my brows. "Uh-uh? What, have we digressed into the nappy stage of life? Or the Neanderthal state of mind? What exactly is 'uh-uh'? Repeat after me: Bye bye Suze. Not 'uh-uh'."  
  
Paul leaned over and gave me a soft peck on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Suze. You need your rest," he sat still next to me, smiling down at me.  
  
It was kinda creepy.  
  
I frowned at him. "What are you, my mother?" Paul gave a deceptively ungentle tug at my waist and I slipped from leaning against my headboard to lying down amongst my pillows. He brushed my hair away from my face.  
  
"Go to sleep," he whispered. "You're getting bags."  
  
I scowled. "Turn off the night-light. I haven't been afraid of the bed-monsters since I was about six months old. And you don't look like a bed-monster."  
  
"I like to think of myself as a bed-god." I guess he does have to have some god-like qualities such as super-strength in order to lug around that gigantic ego of his.  
  
"I'll bet you do," I muttered. But waves of sleep were already blissfully washing over me. And, even though I hate to admit it, having Paul there was a huge comfort. I felt safe knowing if Stiff decided to make a return, he'd have Paul to deal with.  
  
And a pissed-off Paul is worse than a disgruntled Stiff. Because if Stiff did decide to show his face, it was a guarantee that Paul would be a little less than happy. Stiff had beaten me senseless, Paul had to defend my honor. It was his duty as acting out the infatuated-stalker.  
  
But Paul guarding me did feed some misgivings into my mind.  
  
Where was Jesse when I really needed him? Because usually it was his job to watch over me. Heck, usually it was his job to rescue me! I don't know why I didn't call him. I was pretty occupied, though.  
  
The next day I woke up at one in the afternoon with the sun streaming through my newly-opened window and a Paul standing over the bed.  
  
"Rise and shine, princess. It's the dawning of a beautiful day," he stood, hands on hips, in front of my window. The sun was streaming past him and adding to his ghost glow.  
  
He looked like an angel in Lacoste.  
  
I almost snorted out loud at that. Angel. Paul was the antichrist of angelic.  
  
"It's the afternoon, Mr Perky the Happy Hound," I retorted. I'm not a morning person. Or an afternoon person, if I've just woken up.  
  
"You know your problem, Simon?"  
  
I did snort out loud at that. Of course I knew my problem. I had a list of problems that even Ricki Lake wouldn't be able to handle.  
  
"Yeah, I do. It's name is Paul Slater and he won't leave me alone. Whether he's acting out the devil or trying to be Gabriel, he's still really annoying."  
  
"Nah. That's not it. And I don't 'act out the devil'. We just have a lot in common."  
  
"Oh God," I moaned. "You're always going on about how we have so much in common too, but you don't see me harassing innocents, do you?"  
  
Paul decided to ignore me and instead started pacing in front of the window. Back and forth, back and forth. Not particularly helpful when I felt like I was waking up from a twenty-four kegger after which I'd gotten less than a quarter of that time sleep.  
  
"Your problem is you need some motivation for waking up quicker. It'll make you feel happier, more complete," his eyes twinkled dangerously and I could guess what was coming next. "I can provide you with some motivation, Suze."  
  
Eye roll. This movie was so predictable. "You're certainly doing a good job of it so far. You're motivating me to get out of my bed and kick you where you in the place that seems to feed your ego to no extent."  
  
Paul had stopped pacing but his eyes still sparkled. "Well, the motivation I was thinking of certainly involved one aspect of what you mentioned then. But it wasn't the kicking part, that's for sure."  
  
I would have rolled my eyes again, but I was getting a headache from doing it so many times. I'd probably end up rolling them right back and seeing the inside of my head.  
  
I wisely decided to ignore what Paul said and instead busied myself with getting up. I pushed up on my elbows and flung off my duvet. My knee was purple with a tasteful yellow/green tinge outlining it.  
  
"Hmm," I said. "Looks like I've grown an extra knee cap." Because that is what it looked like. There was a bump on it so big it looked like, instead of a third nipple, I had a third kneecap.  
  
Paul came round to the side of the bed and took a look. "Oh man. That is the nastiest thing I have seen since Jack mixed pickles in his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and decided, two hours later, the concoction didn't quite settle his stomach."  
  
Paul's face took on a nostalgic look. "Do you miss Jack and your parents?"  
  
Paul snorted, still staring at my mutant knee.  
  
"I don't miss my parents. They either paid me off to be the good boy, or they ignored me. But Jack..." He gave a little sigh. "I miss Jack. Before, we had never been exactly best buds. But we joked around. And now, he hates my guts. Thinks I'm this big baddie who's out to get you," he cast his over to me and they were filled with amazement.  
  
"Well, duh. No offence, but that is how you come off in first impressions. I mean, you did try to get rid of my boyfriend, try to kill me in Shadowland, almost kill your brother because of your social connections, and, oh yeah, lie to Jack for basically the whole of his life. He was petrified and you just laughed at him and told him he was nutso!" I stared at Paul in incredulity. "Of course he's going to hate you! What did you ever do for him but lie to him and call him certifiable? I heard that brothers were supposed to support each other and help each other. And that's what Jack heard too. So imagine his surprise when he finds his brother has been doing the complete opposite."  
  
I was breathing hard and Paul and I were locked in a stare down with equal looks of wonder on our faces.  
  
"For someone who goes round punching her brothers, I'm not sure I should be taking any notice of you," he said wryly.  
  
"One: Stepbrother. And two: I only punch Brad. And only when he deserves it which, unfortunately for him, happens to be most of the time."  
  
Paul grinned. "Jack really loved you, you know." I grinned widely back.  
  
"Like anyone could do anything but love me," I shook my head. "He only loves me cos I showed him he had nothing to be afraid of. And I taught him how to swim." I stared up at Paul. "I can't believe you guys never taught him how to swim! He's a big enough freak as it is, he doesn't need the add freakiness of not being able to swim!"  
  
Paul laughed. "Oh, so my brother's a freak?"  
  
"Well," I said haughtily. "I'm judging from you. You're what he's going to turn into when he's older." I gave a shudder.  
  
Paul attempted to look offended. "Actually, that's not true. He wants to be you when he's older," he tried to hide a smile but his lip corners were irresistibly twitching.  
  
"But...but I'm a girl!" I'll admit, I was kind of proud that I had someone who wanted to grow up to be a mini-Suze. But I always thought it would be a girl...  
  
I didn't want to be the reason Jack would be a social reject.  
  
The twitching corners broke into a fully-fledged smile, lit by the sunlight pouring into my room and the rest of Paul's face, and for a moment I completely forgot what we were talking about.  
  
"Yeah, and you act like such a girl all the time," Paul's smile was contagious and his eyes had that warm sparkle again.  
  
"Hey! I'll have you know I use my feminine wiles to get a lot of things! I take full advantage of the fact that I'm a girl, all the time!"  
  
Paul raised an eyebrow. "I'll bet you do," he said in a low voice.  
  
I felt my cheeks burning and attempted to heave myself off the bed. My legs his the floor and my mutant-knee buckled.  
  
"Holy..." I bit my lip as a string of curses floated into my mind. Taking a deep breath, I gripped Paul's proffered hand and he tugged me up and into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around my body.  
  
I lifted wide eyes up to Paul's and we stood stock still.  
  
Then Paul went and ruined it. Thank God.  
  
"I'll have to find out how I can get you this vulnerable again," he joked.  
  
"You're a real Superman."  
  
"You want me to be Superman?" He twisted and dipped down in a move that should only be used by parents taking ballroom dancing lessons in an attempt to spice up married life. "Just ask and I can be Superman," he looked down at me intensely and I looked right back up.  
  
And, of course, because he hadn't shown up at any crucial time last night, or the night before, he decided to make up for it now.  
  
By materialising right next to Paul and me.  
  
Jesse's timing could do with a lot of practice.

* * *

OK. Here is my list of "holy"s that i deem worthy of mentioning:

_Holy moley, holy crap, holy christ on a crutch, holy cannoli, holy smackballs, holy Toledo, holy petunia, holy cow, holy shit on a stick, holy Hannibal._

KEEP ON SENDING ME "HOLY"S!! (only if they're good, you weiners. NO OFFENCE IF I DIDN'T PUT YOURS UP!!! But i couldn't be bothered to go through my email again looking at the holys you put. So sue me, I'm a lazy mushroom!)


	8. Confrontations, Explanations, And Sandwi...

**A/N:** HIYA!!! Sorry this took so long to update - I've had holidays, school work, life stuff, writer's block, and LOADSA disturbances (like Spiderman) that I've had to battle through. But due to CONSTANT NAGGING FROM CERTAIN PEOPLE (seriously, I will update it just takes a WHILE for the inspiration juices to get flowing, NAOMI, IT'S NOT ALL THAT EASY, YA KNOW) I have been forced to write a short, crappy, uneventful chappie. I apologise. It sucks but next chappie will... aaw, heck. Next chappie's gonna suck too cos I have no idea what's gonna happen.

But it may take a while cos I have loadsa work to do, and I'm feeling really stressed out at the moment because of family problems and school problems, so I'm really sorry, BUT I WON'T MAKE IT TOO LONG til I next update. Seriously. I'll try and make it only a week. OK, now for my fave part: my acknowledgements:

**Heidi girl:** I had no idea what to call you, so I made this up, feel free to correct. I hope you're having fun...sniffing cheese and...looking at cowbells...

**Allimba:** Aw, ain't you just a pickle in a snowstorm? Thank you for your review - short but sweet.

**mediatorgurl:** How cool! Tennesse! DON'T FEEL TERRIBLE!!! Any input is good for me!!!! Seriously. SERIOUSLY. starts growling and tugs at leash around neck I made up Warson street and I meant to change it! It's like, the street they were on was called Warson street, so I was referring to that to make it SOUND like Elm street. I MEANT TO CHANGE IT TO ELM STREET THOUGH. Lol. This is what happens when you get lazy. You're so sweet, seriously. All your "he is such a creep. arg. creepy creepy creepy" (I'm paraphrasing here). I was like, HAHA, he _is_ a creep, isn't he? Lol. Oddness...

**BloodSoakedTiger:** Haha, you may disappointed with the lack of things being beaten into a bloody pulp...

**Nice Hayley:** HAHAHAHAHA!!! When I wrote it, I was like, "Oh crap, peeps are gonna think he farted." Then I thought, "Nah. They're all too MATURE for that." Obviously I was forgetting about you. ;-D Hehehe, when I wrote it, though, I was giggling so much thinking, "Heh heh heh, Jesse farted!" So that just goes to show how immature I am.

"GAH! AH! GAW! OMG!" - I thought you were choking! What was with that?? I was like, "Somebody call an ambulance!" It was scary. Please, no more choking sounds of exclamation. I like the holy shiitake mushrooms thing - it may come in useful for when I need to refrain from using cheeky words. And thanks for all those Batman holies!! I'm a big fan of Batman, and am currently on a search to find Bat Cave, using my Spidey sense as a map.

**SweetestReject:** Thank you! I laughed myself into a temporaty coma when I read N.T.N. It was so bad I think maybe space monkeys took over my mind and wrote it. It would certainly explain a lot about me now...

**Pens in potatoes:** You are Suze, how does it feel? Lol. How do you know, I don't tape secret video cameras all around you and follow your every move, then base my Suze on you? Huh? You don't. You could be Suze... Doo doo doo doo. You have a dead bedroom buddy? How cool!!!! Eat it. I'm liking the "holy crap monkeys from hell". It's vair vair cheeky and I may be forced to say it. Moowahahahaaa.

**Alexis de Silva:** I'm gonna elaborate on the whole Suze-Bethany thing soon, I swear. Just as soon as I figure out who and what exactly Bethany is.... Any ideas? Lol. I will figure something out, do not worry, fair monkey of doom.

**RayHaisa:** Oooh! A new one to join us! Hello. I'm not sure who Suze is gonna end up with...Normally I'm a Suze-Jesse fan.. but I still love Paul. I'm not giving anything away though.

**gatorchick007:** Hahaha, you're funny. "ugh, men."

**UnangelicHalo:** Hulloooo! LOL, I'm verra verra sorry about all my mistakes! HAHAHA, some of them were hilarious, though. HAHAHA, oddness in small packages, fresh from Ikea.

**Mystique Angelique:** Hahaha, you scare me. I carry round a flash of holy water just in case I ever bump into you. Sure, you live in the land of Ozness, but you know. You're bwilliant too, ya know that? Sure, you're a little weird and scary and maybe even part demon, but you're still amazingly good. Who cares if you have a little bit of Hell fermenting inside of you, slowly turning your heart to the blackest of blacks and coldest of colds?

**Gen. Kenobi: **Slatington, eh? You're not obsessed with Paul, by any chance, are ya? Rednecks and hicks? THAT SOUNDS SO COOL!! How can you not think that is cool? It's fabioso, man. And I'm pretty sure the whole thing about being lucky if I meet someone with all their real teeth is an exaggeration....RIGHT? Can you imagine everyone walking round like that guy from the Simpsons with only one tooth which he calls Chipper? How freakish would that be? And cool. Majorly cool.

**Hauntedgurrl:** I think I've turned everyone who was a Jesse fan into a Paul fan....MOOWAHAHAHAA. Including myself, unfortunately. It's all rather confusing on the old noodle....

**xxreixx:** Heh heh heh. I like it when I make characters come back at inappropriate moments. It's so much fun watching all you guys with steam coming out of your ears.

**Anna S:** ANNA!!!! I know you're in France right now, so I won't get to talk to you til you come back to school, but, HELLOOO! Seriously. Without you to email, I think I may be losing my marbles faster then I originally was... Your life isn't sad, you moron. Stop saying that. You have me in your life. How can it be sad? ME, Anna. ME. (I'm gonna need your help when you get back from Frogland - I have no idea where this story is heading).

**Alenor:** HAHAHA, I GOT YOU WANTING TO READ THE WHOLE SERIES! Well, okay. Maybe I was only a minor contributer, but still!!! Read the series. It's great. It's fabioso with condoments and chips. And you're Australian, huh? How odd... J'adore aussi les Sci-fi books. They are so cool! And sci-fi films, etc. I'm a Trekky all the way. It's scary. And a little worrying. And I'm checking out your fic on Tamora Pierce!

**AmethystHannah: **I lub Peter Kay! Seriously, I do. He's funny. Hahaha, like the bit about Suze lusting after Paul cos she's only human - SO TRUE!

**Kaellia:** I like baloney... Actually, I've never tried it. But it sounds cool... Sorry you had to itch quite a while before I could update, MOOWAHAHAAAAA

**Oenone: **You're from Seattle? HOW COOL IS THAT? Seriously. I wanna go visit Seattle, maybe even live there! I'm basing my book there, so is it a cool place? Is it busy? A metropolis of life and corporations? Are there row houses with picket fences and green lawns? Don't you just lub the film Sleepless in Seattle? I do. I do. I lub Tom Hanks. He's is beyutiful on so many levels.

**ruBY-raINDrop:** I think I need to stop making Paul so nice, lol. Everyone's fallen in love with him!!! WHAT ABOUT JESSE???? Hehehehe

**tt:** Seriously. For someone who lubs to write, you'd have thought you might review with a little more than ONE LINE. YOU WERE TRYING TO WRITE A NOVEL AT ONE POINT, YET WHEN YOU WRITE A REVIEW ALL I GET IS A MEASLY _ONE LINE?????_ Sheesh. (Thank you for reviewing ;-P)

For all of you who read and reviewed my one-shots - THANKS A BUNCH, GUYS!!! Seriously. All of you were soo nice! If I did carry on _It's All Going Down In The Schoolyard_, I think I would have to make it a bit more than PG-13, lol. Cos that's the only place I can see the story heading - the bedroom. There was no plot to it - just snoggeroonies. That's why it was a one-shot. Who needs plots in a one-shot when you can just have lip-locking? It's the way God meant it. Truly, this is a beautiful world.

ALTHOUGH, I could carry on _Schoolyard_ by introducing Jesse all of a sudden... Hmm... I shall ponder it.... SO MUCH TO DO!!! My ber-rain may exper-lode.

* * *

He took one inscrutable look at me, then one look at Paul. That look was very easy to read. A hint: it wasn't one of pleasure.

The mirror started shaking.

"Get your hands _off_ my _querida_, Slater!" Paul looked down at me and our eyes locked. It was like our blood had froze in our veins, locking our bodies like Xavier did in X-men 2 when he froze time.

I'm serious. It was a totally X-men experience.

Then Paul's eyes got this glint. A momentary fire shone like a match being struck. That's when I realised Paul's alter-ego was back. The one that was determined to taunt Jesse. And because my blood still seemed frozen inside of me, and I appeared to have one serious case of lock-jaw, there wasn't a darn thing I could do about it. Except gawk and watch any serenity that had been break and shatter like my mirror was about to any second from now.

"We're just dancing, de Silva. Get a grip," Paul's face twisted into a sneer. "Oh, wait. I'm sorry. You can't. I seem to be the one with the grip." Paul's hands flexed on me and Jesse took a step forward.

I snapped out of my reverie and struggled in Paul's hands. Slowly, he brought me up, but he didn't let me go. And I was okay with that. Mainly because if he let me go, I would just topple ungracefully over if I even tried to balance on my mutant knee.

"Jesse, Paul was just helping me because I'm not really in a state to be doing much and I needed someone."

I felt my eyes widen to goose-egg size. Did I just say I needed Paul?

Jesse gave me a searing look before he saw past his red mist of anger. Once he got through that, he saw me standing there, strongly resembling a human piñata.

"_Nombre de Dios_! Susannah! What happened to you?" Before I could even open my mouth the explain – today was obviously Slow Day for the brain of Suze Simon – Jesse had turned on Paul. "What have you done to her? I'll kill you, you..." Paul quirked a solitary eyebrow as Jesse rattled off exactly what Paul was in a gush of Spanish.

If I was Paul, my genitalia would have totally climbed up to a safe little nook inside of me and I would have been waving my tighty-whiteys like a white flag. Jesse seemed to have an aura that was practically shooting out lightning bolts and thunder claps. He took another step closer to Paul, and Paul, letting go of me, took a step closer to Jesse.

Now Paul had the same aura as Jesse and he was starting to make my chest of drawers rattle.

"I would _never_ hurt Suze! _Christ_! Who do you think I am, de Silva? Freddie _Freaking_ Kruger?" I gaped at Paul. I had never seen him so angry and I had never heard him lose his temper like that, using a different word to _freaking_. But there he was – all angry and upset because Jesse had accused him of beating me up. He gave a humorless laugh and turned his eyes to me. I fell back against the bed and scrabbled to sit up. "You're boyfriend here thinks I would beat up the love of my life!" He turned back to Jesse. "I'll show you just who I do beat up, though."

Before he could leap at Jesse, I grabbed his arm. I was in shock as I did it, though. I wasn't even concentrating what was going on around me. The words _love of my life_ were whirling round and round inside my head. _Love of my life_ in Paul's earnest, angry, hurt voice.

_Love of my life_.

Paul gave me a questioning look in his glaring eyes. He wasn't in a chatting mood, that much was obvious. He was in an I-want-to-rip-your-dead-boyfriend-a-new-belly-button-twice-the-size-of-his-head mood.

I gave him a what I hoped was a reproachful look – the one every guy seems to have down to a pat, much to my chagrin – and turned to Jesse, still holding onto Paul's arm.

"Jesse, Paul didn't beat me up. Paul would _never _beat me up. And not just because I would totally pound on him before he could get in there first. But because he honestly wouldn't hurt me." Jesse's eyes flared angrily once again but I carried on. "Paul was here helping me. He's been here all day and night keeping an eye on me and that's all."

Paul scowled at me which I thought was pretty unfair. I had just defended his butt and here he was scowling at me as if I said something wrong! Guys may have being reproachful sorted, but they sure don't have gratitude tuned into their systems.

And it's pretty mean to be angry at a girl who can barely move without setting off some kind of searing pain all through her body, too. When will I ever catch a break?

I tried to stand up but my mutant knee was having none of it. I collapsed back onto the bed with a wince and a strangled sort of, "Gah!"

Both guys came rushing towards me. Both froze when they noticed the other was doing the exact same thing. Then they both turned to each other with identical scowls.

It was like watching a couple of mimes doing a sketch.

"Paul." He turned to me, his irritation instantly fading. "Thanks for helping me. Seriously. It was really cool of you. I didn't know you had it in you," I gave a small smile.

"Try to keep it to yourself – I wouldn't wanna ruin my image, now." He winked and dematerialised. Which I thought was pretty decent of him. Normally he'd do just about anything to goad Jesse and wreak havoc in my life. And here he was pulling a complete Spike from Buffy on me. Acting all tough, macho, satanic, and then caring for me when I'm hurt and telling me I'm the love of his life.

Confusing would be an understatement.

Jesse immediately came striding over in his cowboy boots, his open-neck shirt fluttering in the breeze he created. I sighed at the beauty of what lay beneath.

"_Querida_, what happened? Are you alright? Is there anything you need?" His large hands had come up to cup my face so I couldn't peek down his top anymore. Not that view up here wasn't just as good, if not better.

That's because his dark, Hershey's-kisses eyes were filled with so much love and concern, and his wide, soft bottom lip was caught between his teeth with his midnight-black eyebrows furrowed, that I just wanted to melt into his strong embrace and kiss him until all that worry for me left his expression.

So I did. I kissed him. Actually, I kissed him kinda hard. But I was just so glad he was here and I knew he would keep me safe. So maybe I kissed him a little harder than necessary... but Jesse didn't seem to mind. He just sorta slowed down his lips which, after a while, slowed down mine. Then he smiled and we carried on kissing normally.

Eventually though, Jesse had appeared to have some misgivings about kissing me. "Susannah..." he said in a hoarse voice. I smiled dreamily. "What happened?"

I blinked in confusion. "Well, I leaned forward and kissed you and then, unable to resist my-"

Jesse smiled his gorgeous smile and shook his head. "Not that, _querida_. What happened to get you so...battered?" His smile instantly vanished and that heart-warming concern took its place.

I almost melted into a pool of adolescent feminine water over the care he held for me. He was always so protective. It's all been totally like Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston in the Bodyguard.

Shame he wasn't there to guard my body two days ago.

I explained to Jesse everything that had happened to me over the past couple of days. All through it, he sat stoic and expressionless. Except when I got to the part about me getting brutally assaulted, then he flinched as if someone had given him a sharp backhand to his cheek.

When I finished, Jesse just kinda sat, looking at me all sadly and hurt. "Why didn't you call me?" That explained the serious expression on his face.

I shuffled back a bit on the bed to get more comfortable and blew at one of my bangs, trying to get it out of my vision. I looked like I was smoking a perpendicular pipe. Jesse reached out and tucked it behind my ear, drawing his hand down to the corner of my jaw, and holding it firmly – but gently – in his direction. Leaving me with no distractions, and only head-on explanations. Literally.

"I was just a little bit occupied," which was the truth. You can't expect a girl to be thinking about her boyfriend when she's getting savagely attacked by a six-foot something hunk of muscle, even if she does resemble Wonder Woman in many uncanny ways.

I explained this to Jesse but he didn't look impressed. "Who is _Wonder Woman_?"

I gave him a brief outline of her and her powers and amazing strength and beauty. Jesse gave me an odd look. "And you think you are a lot like her?" One of his eyebrows slowly slid up his forehead like a pig on greased linoleum.

I, understandably, was mortally offended. Some people say I'm more of a Lois Lane, or a Charlie's Angel. But I always ask them: Where's my Superman? Where are my other better-looking angel buddies with freakishly big and curly hair? More like I'm Superman. Or, I'm all three of Charlie's Angels combined into one super-human babe who's not to be reckoned with.

"Of course I'm a lot like Wonder Woman! We both use our powers for the forces of good, not evil. And, sure, I may not be into the whole "I like to wear white, blue, red and gold teddies with a peculiar hat and cone-shaped breast-plates, but I totally dig her boots! And sometimes, on a really windy day, my hair even frizzes and explodes outwards to look like hers!"

Jesse chuckled briefly then shook his head. "Susannah..." He said in this warning tone that I didn't think was fair one bit.

"What?" I asked innocently.

He retrieved his hand from my jaw and wagged his finger at me with his face a serious mask, but his eyes were smiling like someone was telling him about a joke he once pulled on someone which always made him laugh. "Stop trying to distract me. It won't work. Why didn't you call me?" Piercing me with two laser-point eyes, his face was full of sadness again. And I didn't want Jesse to be sad. Because when Jesse was sad, I was sad.

And personally, I don't like feeling sad.

I have worked all my life detaching myself from feelings most human beings are used to feeling every day. But I have to try and stem those emotions, and retract myself from the normal world.

Because dealing with ghosts isn't a happy job. Listening to them explain how they died, isn't the most cheerful of experiences. And it would be unprofessional to burst into tears every time I came across a heart-breaking story from a member of the deceased. I have to keep a professional mind when I'm mediating, otherwise mistakes will be made. So if I'm dealing with a ghost who's been murdered by a burglar, and they want me to go retrieve an item in the thief's possession, I have to remain emotionally neutral. Otherwise if I'm confronted by the homicidal thief, I might just try and kick his butt from here to Acapulco. Which, in turn, could result in my getting very seriously injured.

But whenever Jesse's near me, or if anything happens directly or indirectly connected to Jesse, all that professionalism seems to just drift out the window. And it's like suddenly all my deadened emotions are heightened, like Spiderman's Spidey powers.

So whenever Jesse's sad, I get sad and I get this inconceivable urge to make him happy again.

"I guess I was just a little angry at you still. And my subconscious was telling me not to call you as a way of pay back. But you can't really blame me when it's my subconscious's fault! I mean, I have no control over my subconscious! Otherwise I probably...most definitely...maybe would have called you..."

Yeah. Great argument, Suze. Well done. Good job on making him feel better.

"_Querida_, I am sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have just walked off on you. It was immature of me and look at the consequences!" He waved his hand up and down me and winced like he always does whenever he spots one of my ubiquitous injuries, no matter how small. It seems like not a day goes by when I don't have an injury of some kind. Whether it's a paper cut or a broken bone, I always have something wrong.

I am God's punch bag.

"It's not your fault, Jesse," I reassured him. Cos it wasn't. Not really. It was my darn subconscious's. "I was just really busy with trying to stop Stiff from killing me, I didn't have time to call you. And when Bethany came along, all I could think was that I had to get her away." Which was true.

Jesse gave me a faint smile. "Always so selfless, thinking of other people before yourself, _querida_." I had to fight back a snort at that.

Me? Selfless? Self_ish_, more like. But I wasn't going to correct him. Not when he was looking at me with so much love and pride in his eyes. I thought now would be a good time for him to kiss me, what with him feeling so proud, and all. So I kinda leaned forward, looking at his lips...

Jesse rocked back on his heels and, smiling down at me, offered me his hand. I blinked at it. What happened to the kissing? Begrudgingly, I took his hand and fumbled up to my feet. Jesse loops his arms behind my neck and my knees, and before I could say "fairytale prince", I was being swept of my feet and carried downstairs, where I was placed carefully on the lounge couch.

Jesse brought me over the TV remote with his mind while fluffling up the pillows behind me, and then asked me what kind of sandwiches I wanted for lunch.

I was so shocked I fell over sideways. Jesse brought me back up looking at me like I was some new species of farmyard animal.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered once I was sat upright. "I thought you asked me what wanted in my sandwiches."

The farmyard animal look sharpened. "I did," he said blinking down at me. I blinked back up at him.

"Cheese and tomato," I said. Then I remembered my manners. "Please." Giving me one last smile, Jesse dematerialised to, presumably, the kitchen. I stared at the blank TV.

My dead boyfriend was fixing me sandwiches. My dead boyfriend was pottering round in my kitchen, making me cheese and tomato sandwiches. I never knew he was so domesticated. Next he'd be asking me where Andy's "Kiss the chef" apron was.

Jesse came back after ten minutes with my plate of cheese and tomato sandwiches and can of diet coke and sat with me while I ate, watching Oprah. I was already too weirded out to get even more freaked by the fact he was tutting at some guy who didn't respect his pregnant ex-girlfriend enough to father her child because she was an "exotic dancer".

I just sat there, munching on my sandwiches and drinking my soda. It was an experience, that's for sure.

After the weirding out faded, I settled against Jesse, who leaned back and wrapped his arms round me while I laid my legs out along the couch, and we just sat there watching Oprah, and occasionally arguing amicably about what the psycho on the show should do next about his or her predicament.

When Oprah finished, and I was flicking through channels trying to find something else to watch, Jesse went ahead and completely spoiled the cosy mood that had settled itself upon us.

"Susannah," he asked. Sounding all innocent. "Tell me about your shifting lessons with Paul."


	9. The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothin' ...

**A/N:** Hey! Have I got a treat for you guys!!! Not only will I be posting chapter 9...**I WILL ALSO BE POSTING CHAPTER 10.** So you know. You won't have to review both chapters! Yay! And to make up for any inconvenience I caused for taking AGES to update! So I'm posting two chapters in a row. SATISFIED YOU UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS BI-----------------------------------------------S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nah, I'm just yanking your chain. I wanted to post ttwo chatpers to show you how much I LOVE YOU!! You are all my little suns and you light up my horizon every time you review. Seriously. So thanks. For making me smile when I thought I couldn't! YOU GUYS KICK ASS!!! And now I'm getting sappy so I'll stop.

But first....MY AKNOWLEDGEMENTS! You know you love them.... ;-P

**Lolly:** Hulloooo! I'm glad you liked the domestication of Jesse (I could just picture him wearing oven mitts with his hands on his hips trying to look menacing - hilarious)

**Hauntedgurrl:** Hey girl! You're reviews also deserve one word: institutalistion. Hahaha. Nah. You rock my purdy pink socks off. Whooooooooooooosh - there they go

**Oenone:** Omigod, Seattle sounds funkAY! I've always wanted to go there. It just sounds so.....Delilahish. Or not.......................

**Nice Hayley:** Gee, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make you CHOKE TO YOUR SPLUTTERING DEATH!!!!!!!! Moowahahahahaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!! No, seriously. I didn't. Maybe. You did kinda make me choke on the whole "picture Jesse with coke dripping down his nose...." I TOTALLY freaked when I wrote that "love of my life" thing too! It just popped out!!! I'm such a romantic it sickens me. So, I want Jesse and Suze to get together....BUT I WANT SUZE AND PAUL TO GET TOGETHER!! But mostly I want JS. Yet...I don't want Paul getting with anyone else...... So maybe, she could just marry Paul, have his babies, have a secret affair and secret babies with Jesse, and then VOILA. All would be good. Maybe.

**gatorchick007:** Hehehe, if the moments were never spoiled, there would be no story! And we wouldn't want that now, would we, kids? chorus of children say "No Mr Wigglesworth"

**iluvjesse: **I UPDATED!!!

**tt:** I do the chicks, chick. Got it? Or you need a little visit from my friend I like to call "Delilah's FIST" to make you get it? Huh? HUH, CHICK? (Thanks for reviewing in multiple lines)

**ruBY-raINDrop:** Aw! You called me a cutie! I AM a cutie, aren't I? grins cutely and watched people drop to the floor in a dead faint

**Naomi:** Now is not a time for personal things, Naomi! Tsk tsk. Honestly. REVIEW AND BE DISCONNECTED, THAT'S ALL I'M ASKING FOR! IS IT TOO MUCH?????? (wink wink, just kidding)

**Gen. Kenobi:** School work sucks beyond belief. I have the same maths teacher for the FOURTH YEAR IN A ROW!! Which isn't good cos 1) I SUCK at maths (I'm a wee bit of a nimrod) and 2) I'm pretty sure he HATES me. And it's SOOO true, just WHEN are you gonna use algebra??? Lol, I'm glad you...spit out your food at my line about genitalia.....LOL. But it wasn't meant to be serious. Most things in my stories aren't sposed to be serious. Lol. Specially not when they involve...ah hem, the naughty bits. The dangly bits. Or, in ladies' cases, the hidden-dangly bits. Please, do not speak of Jesse wearing long johns....HE GOES COMMANDO, OKAY???? drools I totally agree - Spiderman 2 IS one of the best movies ever!!! Especially the train scene. I don't think we got enough six-pack viewage. Unlike in the first film. Hooh boy drools all over again

**Pens in potatoes:** To me, ye shall be Tory. Or Tor. Whatever floats your boat, poppet. All the "I likes" and the occasional "I loves" - aw shucks! You're making me feel giddy with delight and COMPLETE AND UTTER SELF-ACTUALISED JOY!!!!!

**Alenor:** Your fic isn't complete crap, you petite fool. What are you on about? Ub-ubububub! Close that funny little mouth of yours...and be silent....feel the wind....see the colours....Lalala, but whatever you do - DON'T DO DRUGS!!!

**Princess Alexiel:** Hahahaha! Thank you for reviewing everything I've written. Lol. Of course I care, fool. Why do people always think I don't care? WHY WOULD I ASK, IF I DON'T CARE???? WHY???????????????????????? Fools...

**Tina N. Blair:** Omigod, are you the Prime Minister's daughter? Is her name even Tina? Does he even have a daughter? Man, I'm outta the loop. AND IT'S ALL YOU REVIEWERS' FAULT! Making me sit in front of my laptopp day and night. Cheeky girls. Thank you for adding me to your faves! YAY! You deserve a cheese puff hands over cheese puff

**Teen-Princess:** Well hello-o, your highness. I never thought Paul should be completely psychotic - he's just misunderstood. Like a homicidal duck.

**xxreixx:** You scare me. You want people to tear each other up? I'm just not that kinda girl, Rei. But I'll see what I can do when Stiff comes back on the scene....Oops, did I just let that slip...? ;-P

**SweetestReject:** Hiya!!! There is always trouble for lil Suze and Jesse. And you LOVE it.

AND I JUST WANNA SAY THANK YOU TO ALL MY _Where's Jesse's VPL? _REVIEWERS!!!!!! I LUB YOU!!! (non-gay, non-gay. sheesh.) You adorable little minxes, all trying to picture Jesse's hot, tight butt as he wiggled it round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...and round...oh man, I'm gettin' dizzy...

* * *

I kinda shifted in my seat. "Lessons?" My eyes darted around the lounge, and finally settled on our extensive video game selection. I squinted my eyes trying to make it seem as though I was paying the brightly colored boxes all of my attention. "Shifting lessons with Paul?" I flicked my eyes to Jesse to gauge his expression then flicked them back. "Not much to tell really."

I felt, rather than heard, Jesse's groan of frustration through his body, as the reverberations resonated through to my body. "_Querida..."_ he said, and I could totally tell he had his teeth clenched. As if I was being a nuisance! Hello! He was the one who kept pestering me and taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't run away!

Sometimes I envy the dead. Not a lot, but sometimes.

Now was one of those times. I could fully understand why Jesse had dematerialised so abruptly that fatal day. Actually, those fatal _days_. It wasn't exactly as if Jesse was a novice at running away when things get sticky. But I could understand why he'd done that now, I mean, I wasn't exactly comfortable with this topic. The lessons weren't just lessons or keeping Jesse from disappearing forever - they were also insinuations and promises of things to come, all aimed at me by Paul. But to Jesse, they were lessons, his pride being damaged, his powerlessness being rubbed in his face, and Paul trying to steal his girlfriend from him.

But Jesse didn't know to what extent Paul went to in the "trying to steal the girlfriend" category. Jesse didn't know, for example, about Paul coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, snuggling his face into my neck and letting me become enraptured by his endearing oh-so-masculine cologne. He didn't know about Paul tickling patterns with only the barest of touches from his forefinger along my naked arm, making me want to scream out in anguish and push his whole hand on me because that bare touch wasn't enough, it was a tease and my hormones wanted more. And Jesse sure as hell didn't know about when Paul had whispered good night to me, and brushed my lips with his, before I dove out of his car for fear of wrapping my arms around his neck and forcing his lips on mine.

Jesse didn't know any of that. But I, obviously, did. And it wasn't easy keeping it from him when he kept on pushing the subject.

I, personally, blame it on Paul's aftershave. It was so beguiling. It was dark, musky, and yet tangy and light. I would get the smallest of glimpses of it before it was gone, making the faint scent seem as if it were a dream. Then I would get another whiff of it, and again, it would fade. But it would confirm my suspicions that it was there.

Each time Paul moved, some of the scent would dance toward me, only to dissipate the instant it reached my nostrils. It made me want to search his entire body until I found the source of the smell. It made me want to stay close – closer than necessary – in order to carry on smelling the enchanting aftershave.

"It's the aftershave's fault!" I suddenly screeched.

Jesse's eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "Aftershave, _querida_?" He looked faintly amused, more than a lot confused, and very, _very _suspicious.

I gulped. Nodding my head frantically, I managed a strangled, "Mm-hmm." Jesse's eyes narrowed. "But we don't need to talk about that right now. In fact, we don't need to talk about it _at all_. Let's just get straight to the lessons. What do you want to know? You want me to give you them in chronological order? Cos I can. You might hafta give me a few seconds to recount on what we've done and studied. It's all been quite confusing but Paul's actually surprisingly a good teacher so he's really helped me and it kinda helps that I don't have to any homework or assignments, you know?" I gave a nervous giggle and fiddled with a strand of hair.

I had almost told him about the aftershave! What, had the scent short-circuited some part in my brain causing temporary malfunction?

I peeked up through my bangs and sneaked a look at Jesse. His eyebrows travelled that long journey down from his forehead to their normal resting place, where they lay in straight lines as a blank look washed over his features. I wasn't worried. I got that a lot. Then suspicion alighted his qualities, and his brows pulled together. I quickly ducked beneath my bangs again and bit my lip.

Why couldn't I think properly when under pressure? After about a minute of silence, I looked up. Jesse was staring at me, completely blank, but with his eyes slightly misted, so I knew he was thinking, in a world of his own.

"Yo! Jesse? Anything you care to share? I'm all ears." I tugged at the ears in question.

Jesse blinked back at me. His eyes were dark and unreadable, and it was scaring me. It was as if this black widow-veil had been dropped over his eyes, sheeting any emotions and light.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. His eyebrows lifted and a lost-puppy look painted itself on his face.

"Tell you what?" I crawled away from under his arm and sat facing him, looked over the space between us in puzzlement, but his facial expression didn't change. He was confused and he wanted answers – now.

He reached out a hand and laid it on top of mine.

"Tell me about your lessons," a shadow flicked over his face, "with Paul."

That was a hard one. Not the reason. I knew the reason as to why I didn't tell him. But how did I explain that reason without hurting him and his ego?

"Well. See. The thing is. What the facts speak, the mind sings...so basically... Um..." I trailed off wisely.

I saw the corners of Jesse's lips twitch up but a frown tried to push them down. The lips were winning.

"Susannah. I will not be angry. I need to know, though. You put your life in danger and I need to understand why you didn't tell me." He had leaned over and was clutching my hands, pleading with his eyes.

"I just...didn't want you to get angry. And don't say you wouldn't have! Because you did. As soon as you found out – off you stormed. And I didn't want to hurt you and your male ego and make you feel unwanted or unneeded. I just couldn't tell you in case you went off and did something stupid."

"Like what?" Jesse actually looked offended.

"Like go off and try to hurt Paul! Or go off and desert me without leaving a note! You didn't call, you didn't write. You're worse than a teenage on his first stay away from home," I sniffed and glared at him.

"You were worried that I would go off and hurt Slater?" Jesse loosened his hand and began retracting it. I quickly planted mine on his and gripped it tightly. Trying to make him understand.

"Yes!"

Jesse's face closed off and he tried to tug his hand out from underneath mine.

"I see," he said. Except I didn't think he did, guessing from the expression on his face - that of thunderous rage and betrayal. "You were worried I would hurt your beloved Paul Slater. In that case why don't I make it easier on all of us and leave..."

And he proceeded to do so.

I blinked a couple of times. What the heck had just happened? Had I managed to push Jesse away _again_? "Damn you, Jesse! You great big jer-"

I leapt off the couch so fast my head span...and my leg buckled beneath me.

I fell hard. I landed hard. My breath whooshed out of my body. The pain was so dazzlingly bad, my mind danced from consciousness to unconsciousness in a matter of seconds. My breathing became stunted and I couldn't get it going again properly. It was as if I was balancing the whole house on my chest.

I gasped for breathe and tried to call someone. Instead, a flood of raspy swearwords came spewing out.

And in the distance – somewhere between the loud grates of my breath scratching out and the heavy, deafening silence surrounding my crumpled body – I heard the quiet echo of torrid Spanish. It was quick and angry and scared and was growing louder then quieter, all the while sounding as if the person were speaking it from the bottom of a bottle.

And then pure white light was casing me, and cool arms were scooping me up.

My swearing had stopped - thank God. My mom would have totally killed me and Andy would have grounded me for the rest of my life once he had dug up my corpse up if they heard the things I had said. But my breathing still wasn't right. And it was making it difficult for me to focus. And stay conscious.

Next thing I knew, I was being cushioned from the heels of my feet to the back of my head. It was soft and encompassing and it felt safe. Then those cool hands that had picked me up were stroking down my face, trailing healing paths down my cheeks, across my forehead, over my eyelids. And the angry Spanish had consecrated and was now calm and soothing. Hushed and comforting.

It brought out my breaths easily. They were no longer cotton wool pulling up against cacti. It was water falling down a drainpipe. My vision cleared and the pain bounced away.

"Ow," I whined.

The Spanish came out rushed, but still hushed. The cool hands stroked my face more quickly, too.

"What did you do to yourself?" The hands grasped my shoulders and shook them roughly. "What were you thinking?" The shaking stopped and my eyes jiggled back to the front of my skull.

"I was thinking," I retorted as calmly as I could. "That I was going to get up and follow you. Or rather, call you. Because were being such a great big jer-" I struggled to sit up but his strong hands kept my shoulders back.

I stopped struggling and scowled up at him. "Do you _have_ to keep running away?"

Jesse leaned forward and planted a kiss on my forehead. "Do _you_ have to keep hurting yourself? Do you have a death wish?" I didn't think it was very fair for Jesse to be finding this situation so amusing.

"No. But obviously you do because I swear to God, I am not totally against beating up the man that I love when he keeps on ticking me off. I am fully for pounding the ones I love. If it's the right thing to do."

Jesse's hand trailed down to my chin and I tried to bite it. So what if it wasn't very mature? This guy was really starting to bug me.

Jesse grinned and planted a big wet one on my lips and I forgot all about being angry with him. How come he could do that? It wasn't fair. Here I was doing my best to stay angry at him and then with one simple, utterly mind-blowing kiss all I want to do is wrap my whole body round his and never leave the comfort of his arms.

I melted into my pillows as the kiss evolved. Maybe I should injure myself more often.

Eventually Jesse pulled away and snuggled his head near my ear, whispering kisses across my skin. I nuzzled my lips into the crook of his neck, brushing the soft, resilient skin there. "No fair," I murmured. Jesse chuckled.

Suddenly something piqued my curiosity. "Why did you call Paul my 'beloved'?" Jesse tensed and slowly drew back, staring deeply into my eyes.

"You didn't want me to harm him. You were afraid I would beat him up." I felt my eyebrows tug together.

"Well, duh, Jesse. If you go over there and start pounding on him, Paul's going to want revenge."

Jesse frowned down at me. "What...?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Paul's not one to stand humiliation or feelings of inferiority. He's the kinda guy who wants to be camp leader, wants to go on top, wants everyone to listen to _him_. If you went round and beat him up, he's not gonna take kindly to the fact someone exists who's superior to him." I brushed some hair of Jesse's forehead. "Paul's looking for any excuse to get rid of you, Jesse. _Any_ excuse. Being beaten up by you is probably top of the list."

Jesse's frown deepened. I resisted another eye roll. "You didn't want me to beat him up...because you thought he would want revenge?" I nodded. Duh. "Not because you cared for him?"

I felt my eyes widen with shock. "What?" I yelped. Then I realised what Jesse must have been thinking all along, and I couldn't help the laughter that was bubbling up inside of me. "Of course I don't care for him, Jesse."

But even as I said it, I felt something niggling at the back of my mind. Something like guilt. Paul had stayed with me, kept me safe, for two whole nights. And I had felt a warm glow inside of me when I found out.

"You were worried about him exorcising me..." Jesse continued once my laughter had died down.

"Yes. You go and beat him to a bloody pulp, and Paul won't wait around to get rid of you. So I agreed to go to the lessons and prevent you from unwittingly leaving."

Jesse sat in silence for a moment. "I don't want you to put yourself in danger for me, _querida_," he said slowly, as if thinking it through.

I gave a small sigh. "I'm not _in_ any danger. Paul's not going to do anything to hurt me. Remember? He loves me," Jesse winced at the recollection, "so he's not going to hurt me. Mentally, maybe. Physically? No." I cupped his cheek with my hand. For a guy who came from an age where sanitation wasn't exactly a prerequisite considered that important, he sure had smooth skin. I mean, for a guy from an age without Clearasil. "I'm not in any danger, Jesse. I'm as safe as a baby in a Volvo. Seriously. Those cars are like indestructible."

When Jesse refused to look convinced I said, "Anyway. It's not as if I can't take care of myself." We both glanced down at my battered musculature. "Most of the time," I added.

Jesse gave a crestfallen sigh, resigning himself to the fact that I was going to carry on taking shifting lessons with his arch nemesis. "You must promise me, _querida_," Jesse said in a firm voice, "if he tries anything, _anything_, you will call me. Okay?" I bit down on my lip. It was a little late to be making promises like that.

Giving him a hard hug, I promised him.

With my fingers crossed, obviously.

I heard the front door bang open, and Brad's call of, "We're ho-ome!" Jesse disentangled himself from me and sat on his window seat, petting Spike who had just that second appeared through my window. _His _timing was impeccable. I'm pretty sure Jesse could learn a thing or two from that big dumb cat.

Small feet pattered up the stairs and pelted to my door where they stopped so hastily I thought the person the hurrying legs belonged too must have ran into some kind of visible force field and been flung back several feet.

There was a timid knock at my door and I yelled my usual, "Enter!" Doc opened the door gradually, eyeing my room cautiously. Ever since he'd found out about Jesse, he searched the room intently before opening his mouth to say anything. Which I thought was pretty useless seeing as Doc couldn't see Jesse, but I kept it to myself. He seemed to find it necessary and comforting to do it.

His eyes settled on the window seat, and the cat with his front paws seemingly hovering in mid-air, and his briefly raised fur – he always raised his hackles whenever someone came within 10 feet of him – being petted down by an invisible hand.

David's eyes grew to the size of golf balls.

They slammed over to mine. I tried to make my smile warm and reassuring, but I was finding it so hard not to just burst out laughing.

"It's okay, David. It's just Jesse." Jesse raised his hand in a form of greeting and smiled. I rolled my eyes. "He can't see you, Jesse." Jesse grinned unrepentantly at me and I turned to a very confused Doc.

"He's saying hello," I explained. Doc blushed.

"Hi Jesse," he said quietly. It would have been really sweet – my two favorite guys getting to know each other – but it wasn't. Mainly because my ultimate favorite guy wasn't visible to anyone but me.

"How was school?" I asked. Mainly to be polite. Like I actually cared about school. I would have if it had been CeeCee or Adam here instead of Doc, but only because they would have filled me in on the too-blonde-to-be-true escapades of Kelly and Debbie. Doc usually filled me in on the too-smart-to-be-interesting escapades of one scientist or another that he was learning about in class.

"It was, you know...school," he gave a small shrug. "Adam says hi. And CeeCee. And everyone else in your year. They're all really missing you apparently. And they're all planning a surprise party for when you get back. They even got you a present. It's one of those rape-alarms. The ones you set off when you're being attacked and can be heard a mile away," he gave another shrug. "It was Adam's idea. Although he said he would have preferred to just be glued to your side to protect you," Doc wrinkled his nose, "I think he was joking."

I smiled at that. Adam was always joking. "Party's not so much of a surprise anymore, huh?"

Doc grinned shamelessly. "You would have figured it out. You _always_ get a party when you come back to school after being beaten up."

"Lucky me."

"That's why I'm here. I came to check up on you. Mom said I should, what with you not having anyone else here with you," his eyes darted to the window seat. "Except I know you haven't been alone. So I knew you'd be okay." I gave Doc a grateful smile.

I don't know how I would have survived moving in with Andy's sons if Doc hadn't been here.

Heavy footfalls could be heard climbing the stairs, and coming towards my room.

"Yo, Suze, you know where Slater's at?" Brad leaned against my doorjamb with half a Poptart in his mouth, being chewed loudly and slowly, like a sheep chewing on grass.

Brad deserved his own show on the Discovery channel.

"Yeah. Oh, and I'm fine thanks," I retorted snidely.

Dopey rolled his eyes and finished swallowing the demolished Poptart. "Whatever. So? Where is he?"

"He's..." And that's when I realised. How did I explain where Paul was? "He's...ill. Yeah. So he had to go back to Seattle with to his family. Cos his grandpa can't take care of him. Plus he was kinda missing Jack, and it was a good excuse to go down there." I needed to learn how to control the tempo of my speech when I got nervous.

"Jack? Who the hell's Jack?"

"His brother," I resisted adding "Duh." Dopey just grunted.

"Oh. Didn't know he had a bro. Anyway, why can't his grandpa take care of him?"

Had Paul not told anyone about his life? I mean, I always knew he liked to play the dark and mysterious, brooding stranger. But come on. Considering he was gonna be spending a couple more years here, you'd have thought he'd learn to open up even just a little bit.

"His grandpa's a bit...out of it. He has a nurse to look after him cos he can't look after himself. Heck, he can't even talk." Although that was a lie. Because Paul's grandfather had shocked me half to death when he had spoken very lucidly on the certain topic of his grandson... and how evil he was.

Brad stilled and looked as though he was piecing bits of a puzzle together. It looked like it hurt and I was pretty sure I could smell smoke.

"So...Paul technically has the house to himself when he's there..." Brad still had a far-away look in his eyes.

"Ye-es," I answered slowly.

Dopey grinned. "Paul has a house _to himself_ with no one to contact his parents if anything were to happen."

The pieces were coming together in my mind too. "By anything, I'm guessing you mean a party."

Dopey turned his shameless grin to me. "Totally," was all he said. "How the hell do you know so much about Slater anyway?"

I kinda froze. What, exactly, did I say to that. I didn't need to say anything. Brad did all the talking for me.

He grinned maliciously. "You been having secret sessions with Paul? Is _that_ where you go to whenever you say you're studying with CeeCee?" Of course, I couldn't really deny it. It _was _where I disappeared to when I said I was at CeeCee's. I just went there for different reasons to the ones Dopey expected me of. But I couldn't tell my mom I was going to be round at a guy's house with no one else there. She would probably freak or just pile a load of condoms on me telling me to "Keep it safe."

Ew.

"No," I snapped. "Paul just obviously feels he can share things with me that he can't share with others."

Dopey snorted. "Yeah, like his dick."

Okay. I blushed at that. I should be used to the crudities of teenage boys, what with living with two of the most juvenile ones on the planet. But still. Jesse stopped stroking Spike.

"I'm _not_ having sex with Paul, Brad," I said slowly and between my teeth. Oh, _God_, cos this scenario get any worse?

"Yeah? Then how come mom's always trying to pawn off condoms onto you? And how come Paul's always grabbing you and stuff at school? Plus he totally told us about that time in his bedroom –"

I snapped up at that. "_What?!_"

Brad looked at me as if I was slow. "That time in his bedroom...on his bed..."

All the blood just drained out of my face. "He _told_ you?" I screamed, outraged. What else had he told them? And how _dare_ he tell them!

Jesse made a choking noise.

Brad just grinned. "Yeah, he did. Anyway, I gotta shoot. Things to do, you know."

He started to walk out, then stopped all of a sudden. He turned and looked over at my window.

"David, what the hell are you doing, man?"

I looked round and saw Doc, prodding meticulously at Jesse's arm and shoulder. What Dopey saw was Doc groping thin air.

David whipped round, red from the roots of his to the tips of his fingers. "I thought I saw a Blue-tipped butterfly. They're very rare."

We both stared at Doc in amazement, then Brad turned and strode out of my room. Doc gave me a sheepish grin, cast one last glance in Jesse's direction, then shot out of my room like Max whenever I get a supernatural visitor.

I sat on my bed in silence. I could feel Jesse's stare on me. "What time in his bedroom on his bed?" He asked, too calmly for my liking.

I gulped. "Remember that time when Paul said he found my hairclip? That time. That time _ages_ ago."

Jesse kinda growled and I gave a sigh. "Not again, please? It was one time and it wasn't even anything that big." Who was I trying to kid? At the time, I thought the top of my head was going to blow off it was that big.

I'm talking about the kiss, not any anatomy that Paul might be owning.

Jesse gave a snort and carried on petting Spike.

"I think you might have freaked Doc out with the whole petting-Spike-in-mid-air thing," I said tentatively, trying to ease Jesse onto more enjoyable talking points.

Jesse grinned at me. "I like him."

A sigh escaped me. "I like him too, Jesse. He's a good kid."

Jesse gave me an odd look. "You should like him. He is your brother."

"So?" I said, looking at Jesse as if he were telling me Burger King was the way to diet. "That doesn't mean I have to like him." A moment passed, then, "Anyway, he's my _step_brother. _Step_brother. Sheesh. Am I the only one who can remember that?"

Jesse had risen and was perched on the edge of my. He looked into my eyes with a gentle expression. The same gentle expression he used right before he asked me about my shifting lessons. I was automatic alert. Innocent Jesse, my right buttock! He could puppy-dog look his way out of a hostage situation!

"Maybe you're the only one who _wants_ to remember that, _querida_," he said.

Bingo! Ching-ching-ching! We _have_ a winner! I'm going to remember that deceivingly innocent facial expression for later occasions. "I don't _want_ to remember; I just do! He's not my biological brother! Neither is the rest of this family. So, you know...I just remember it. It's stored in my mind. Strangely enough," I muttered. Of course it's stored in my mind. Like having a step-family _wouldn't _be stored in your mind!

I gave a jaw-cracking yawn just then, and suddenly my eyelids felt heavy... My vision clouded with sleepiness and my mind slowed its usual racing to a gentle stroll. Jesse gave me a small smile and a peck on the forehead before shifting me down onto my bed and covering me with the sheets.

"You're tired," he murmured, "get some sleep. I will stay here with you, I won't leave you."

Warmth rushed inside me and I managed a tiny smile before my eyes closed and familiar darkness took over. I was asleep even before I finished the yawn that broke from my mouth again.


	10. Danger Is My Shadow

**A/N:** Hey gallies! I figured maybe I should stop saying "guys" seeing as, to my knowledge, none of you guys possess a weiner or a ball that isn't of the bouncing/chocolate/cheese variety. So I shall call you gallies, or by your rightful species name: _mutant penguin furballs._

* * *

The rest of the week passed like something out of _Huckleberry Fin_ or _Little House on the Prairie_. I would wake up to find Jesse sat on my bed, looking down at me with what can only be called love in his eyes.

I would get up, perform my usual daily ablutions and rituals, then Jesse would help me downstairs – usually by placing both hands on my waist and supporting me as I descended the stairs. He would forever be hovering near me as I reached into the cupboards for cereal, or as I sat down ungracefully in a chair. But he wasn't hovering in an "annoying wasp" kinda way. More like a "guide dog for the blind" kind of way.

It was cute, it really was.

And then the rest of the day would be spent watching TV, reading magazines (or in Jesse's case a very big book) whilst snuggled up on the couch, or just plain making out. It was cosy. Like married life with a dead dude.

And before I knew it, it was Sunday night, and my mom was helping me pick out what shoes to wear for school the next day.

Not that I actually needed help picking out my shoes. Please. The attack affected my ankle, knee, wrist, and ribs; not my mind. But mom felt sure that my Steve Madden slides weren't really all that appropriate, and she fully gave me this lecture about wearing sneakers because, and I quote, "Not only do they support, they give comfort and look good too."

I was in such a state of shock I just stood there letting my mother bumble about me picking out matching clothes.

Of course, I couldn't wear any of my skirts – ew, no. Not with my mutant knee – so I had some rather nice khaki green slacks and I was going to wear a long-sleeved T to hide all my rather gross black, blue, and purple – and now _yellow _and _green_, of all colors – bruises, but I didn't think I wanted to melt during school on my first day back. So instead I decided to be brave and bear my marks. And I wore a tank top.

I was _not_ looking forward to going back. Last time I'd been in hospital, Kelly and Debbie followed me round _everywhere_, even to the loo. Like I was gonna fall down it, or something.

But I won't need their help this time – not that I needed it last time – because I can totally hobble to my heart's content and my ribs aren't aching my so much that I need to crouch down like a granny on a Zimmer frame to walk this time.

I should have known it wasn't going to be that easy though. The second I stepped out my car, I had a bunch of kids from _David_'s year group coming up to me and hugging and touching and clinging on to me. I don't even know who they are. They were just squealing at me saying, "We're so glad you're back!" and "I hope that bad man didn't hurt you _too_ much!" in their quivering, tinny little voices.

It was like being attacked by the munchkin people.

Then when I finally got to homeroom, everyone was bearing down on me, pushing their gifts of plush toys, freshly picked daisies from the school's garden, and half-empty boxes of chocolates onto me. There were a couple of colourful balloons hanging from the ceiling and a banner that said, "Welcome back, Suze!" on which someone had scribbled, "Again!" in wonky letters. That made me smile. I think it was Adam's handwriting.

Then everyone went silent and cleared a path for Kelly, who stepped forward, basking in all the attention, and said, in this "I've practiced this speech in front of my mirror and I am _totally_ going to be a senator one of these days" voice: "Suze Simon, I present you with this card signed by all who wanted to sign it and wish you the best of health. We were _totally_ sorry to hear that you got injured, but we figured that, because you lived in New York before you came here, you would be used to this kinda thing happening to you anyway," she took a break to give her hair a little flick and simper at whoever's eye she caught. I really did wonder where she got all this stuff about New York from. I'm guessing it just fizzled into her mind from some strange place. "We hope you get better soon, we truly do."

Then she handed me this card that was the size of President Abe's head on Mount Rushmore and turned and walked over to her seat to finish the manicure she was giving herself.

Then everyone else kinda dispersed and it was just me and CeeCee and Adam. The latter of which was trying to sign my wrist cast even though I was moving it about to try and stop him.

"Sorry about that. We told the Bobsey twins over there," she nodded her head to Kelly and Debbie where they were applying nail polish in synchronised strokes, "that you wouldn't want this kinda thing but you know how excited they get whenever you're almost-maimed," she gave a helpless shrug.

I could understand her though. If Kelly and Debbie have their hearts set on something – no matter how utterly moronic it is – they are unstoppable in their wake. They're like these two giant Titanic's that, unlike the original, can_not_ be stopped by anything, even an iceberg.

They crush anything and anyone in their path.

Adam handed me my "surprise" present – that rape alarm. I tested it out and almost deafened him.

"Thanks, Adam!" I said with a genuine smile.

"What?" Adam yelled back, a finger in his ear.

The rest of the day was a blur. Teachers gave me "oh aren't you so special" looks whenever I hobbled into their classes, and even Sister Ernestine's look of exasperation weren't so exasperated when she spied my cast.

As I was hobbling out of school, ready to go home and have some Suze-and-Jesse time, I felt something creep up behind me.

"You gonna carry that alarm around with you whenever you come round to my house? Or am I going to be the exception in your defenses?" Two arms snaked round my waist and I felt a breath flutter through my hair and across my neck.

"Ready to help me become whole again? It's getting pretty dull not being able to tease you in class like I used to. I miss out footsie fumbles."

I snorted at that. "Our 'footise fumbles' as you call them, are nothing more than me kicking you whenever you get that _glint_ in your eye."

Paul stepped around from behind me with an expression of mock hurt. "Oh, now. That hurts me, that really does."

I gave him a sarcastic smile and tried to step around him. I ended up falling into him as he stepped in my way and I over-balanced. With him firmly gripping my arms, I had no choice but to look up into his eyes.

"You ready to help my find away back into life? Or do you prefer me in this state where I could accidentally pop in on you in the shower when you think about me in pure adolescent hormonal ways. Cause if that's how it is, then I gotta tell ya: I honestly wouldn't mind sticking round like this," his pupils grew larger. "I'm good in the shower, Suze."

Damn that aftershave! It was swirling all around me. "I'm sure you are, but I have to get my ride before it leaves without me..." I tried to wriggle out of his grip but to no avail.

"Uh uh," he said, shaking one of his fingers at me. "You're coming home with me. We need to figure out how to get me out of here, okay?"

I scowled up at him. "Fine. Let me just go tell Brad." I wrenched myself from his grasp and stumbled over to the car. Dopey questioned me, but when I told him I was going round to Adam's he lost interest. Fine with me.

I turned to walk back to Paul and he appeared magically in front of me. "Let's go," I growled. I mean, come on! I had a mutant knee and a sore ankle and I was supposed to limp _all the way_ to Paul's?

So sue me if I felt like grumbling a bit!

In actuality, though, the trip was rather pleasant. For once I was glad I had listened to my mom's aging fashion tips and worn my sneakers. They _were_ comfy and supportive. Just a shame they didn't look so good. And my trousers were fully made designed for heat retention, which meant I was practically melting onto the sidewalk like the Wicked Witch from the West.

Paul and I kept up scintillating conversation all the five-or-so miles and was even quite the gentleman and propped me up on his this crook of his arm when I began to get a little tired.

It was a new side of Paul. Death suits him.

The sad truth is, it really does. Maybe I should tame him and make him my minion? Show him what it feels like to be on the other side of the boat?

Yeah. Cos Paul's a real easy guy to tame.

By the time we made it to his house, it was already into the evening, and I was hungry. And you know you what happened?

I made dinner at Paul's house! And, okay, so it was only a frozen ready-meal. But it was still dinner! I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher (hey! I'm a guest; I gotta act guestly) when Paul came up silently behind me.

Well, maybe not so silently.

I was bending over and putting my plate away when I heard a long, low whistle.

"If this is the view from behind, the front _must_ be good."

I straightened up instantly and whipped round.

Paul's face split into a wide grin. "Wow. It _is_ good," he said. I rolled my eyes and put out my hands in a kind of "stop, or I'll shoot" gesture.

"Don't ruin this," I warned. Paul took another step closer.

"In fact, it's _better_ than good," he carried on as if I hadn't spoken, taking a couple of steps closer. How rude.

"Paul..." I said in this low voice, like Spike when he growls when he wants me to back off from his cat food.

"It's _way_ better," he murmured, now standing right in front of me. His eyes were on my lips.

And, I'm disgusted to say, my eyes were pretty much on his lips too. Debating whether I should go for the top one of bottom one when I kissed him.

"Paul, I'm injured," I said, my eyes were still on his lips. I honest to God tried to drag them up to his eyes. I swear. But it just wasn't happening.

"Don't worry," he said in this wolfish voice that got me worrying even more. "I'll be gentle," he whispered, right into my ear.

"Back away from the girl, Paul," I muttered. My voice was kinda breathy and without any real conviction, I sounded like someone off Baywatch trying to act.

"We don't have to do anything _too_ strenuous, Suze. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I did all the work."

My mind was screaming, _Let him do all the work! You know he's good at his job, make him get to work, NOW!_

And my heart was screaming, _Dude, aren't you, like, in love with that other ghost? Um...Jesse? And you can totally tell he's way in love with you. Do you really wanna break that guy's heart?_

As you can see, my body was a very confused place. And Paul's damn aftershave that was slowly infiltrating my sense and overriding my synapses wasn't clearing up the situation at hand either.

Then the cavalry arrived.

"Susan! How nice to see you again! Mr Slater _will_ be pleased to see you again." 

Paul thunked his head down onto my shoulder in despair and I quietly worshipped Grandpa Slater's nurse, who had chosen that moment to come and save me from, what was deemed to be, sinfully delightful disaster.

"Hi! Talking about Mr Slater, I think I'll just go visit him." And I slunk off away from Paul and towards mute salvation.

Paul's grandpa was sat watching an old Dallas re-run. I nervously shuffled into the room and stood by the door, watching the screen, trying to figure out the best way to escape from this house.

"My fool grandson rope you in to help him back to life?" The old man suddenly rang out.

I admit it, I freaked. I jumped into he air and let out a startled shriek. I managed a nod when he turned round in his chair to hold me in place with a piercing blue-eyed gaze.

"You have to think about the basics. The simplicities of the ordeal. Then reverse it. Fill that void with what he's missing. That's all you have to do."

I stared at the back of his head as he slowly turned back to Dallas.

"Of course," he continued. "It may just be the death of you."

Now, I honesty don't think that's something you should be telling young girls like me. I mean, seriously. Here I am trying to make my Girl's Scout leader happy by doing my good turn, and good old grandpa here is threatening me with possible impending doom and fatality.

It's just something you don't do. Out of the goodness of your heart and the purity of your soul.

I'm beginning to wonder if Jack is adopted – he seems to be the only one in that family who _doesn't_ wish to be a faithful follower in the cult of Satan.

Just as my mind had begun to function again and I was about to ask Grandpa Slater what the devil he was talking about – if you'll pardon the pun -, his nurse came striding back into the room with his usual "I wish my cheeriness was contagious" smile and Slater slipped back into his dormant state of being.

But because I'm Suze Simon, holder of the hand of Aces in the deck of life, I decided to look on the bright side: I had learnt something about how to save Paul.

Unfortunately, it looked like the hand I was holding this time was a royal flush – and not in the good sense – because what I had learned was that, in saving Paul's life, I was most likely going to be sacrificing my own.

Do they have Prada in death?


	11. Revelations

**A/N:** Howdy!!! OK, so I'm gonna be acknowledging your reviews for both chappies 9 AND 10. Seeing as I posted them at the same time. Phew. This may take a while...

**Nice Hayley:** I lub it in books when guys get jealous. Especially for no reason. That's why I try to put a lot of jealousy in...hehehe. You MAY have noticed...I figured Paul could have told Dopey about the bedroom escapade when he got drunk or something. Or maybe he just wanted to get Suze in trouble, I don't know. Don't look at me, I just write this thing! "If she dies...she canbe with Jesse." - or not...What if she moves on? And Jesse...doesn't? _Hehehehehehee_

**xxreixx:** Jesse just annoys you? HOW? Weiner. ;-P

**Oenone:** You have heard they have Prada in death? What are you, _Jesus_?

**deadly-terrors:** You're not haunting my dreams. Just terrorizing them. There's a difference, ya know. Have a cheesy watsit hands her a cheesy watsit

**Pens in potatoes:** The whole Jesse-tucking-Suze-into-bed? I was having a slight angel moment. I have this thing about angels. And I could just picture Jesse with a golden-white glow (in Suze's dazed eyes) helping and healing her. I like to think there are angels walking amongst us. Because I'm a freak. ;-D And I'm totally working on the Paul-Suze makeout session! Fear not, lusty wench! :-)

**SweetestReject:** Danker shun! Or whatever that German thingy is. And no one say "Worzel" cos that's a type of sausage, not "Thank you" in German.

**Mystique Angelique:** I totally agree with you on Meg's last excerpt - It was so unJesse-ish. He would normally have listened to Suze about what she had to say about Paul, and not kissed her to shut her up. I make my Jesse do that because normally I think he is quite dull in Meg's books, so I can get away with it...hehehe. Also, I'm a teenager with rampaging hormones coursing through my blood, so I can blame any lustations on that. And the fact that I need to get laid. But that;s beside the point and, frankly, probably a little gross for you lot to know about. Moowhahahaaa. _Stop, Emily. Just....stop._ **"is Paul going to like, do something aong the  
lines of soul tranference, or something? Like, take Suze's life?"** - You are a very perceptive bunny, you know that? Seriously. But you'll have to wait until chappie 12 (which is coming like, either tonight or tomorrow) to find out exactly what they ahve to do. Well, not _exactly_, but the generaly gist of it. And I am totally working on more Paul-Suze stuff. A lot of you guys are asking for it, so. You know. I'm gonna work it in there...MOOWHAHAHAHAAA. Good stuff, good stuff. And thanks for noticing how I try to get real life into it - I always try to do that because it helps make it more believable. It does make it harder though, living in England, cos I don't know half the stuff Suze is talking about most of the time, lol. So usually my "real life inputs" are really random and crap. Lol. But if you think they are ok, then EXCELLENT. (I totally had fun doing that roleplay - even if I did make Paul a bipolar PSYCHO. A lot of rage output was used. It made me feel healthier. Hehehe)

**tt:** Please, no _Buffy_ mentions in my reviews. Or Spike. Or Angel. Please. No. No. Just....no. AND NO CSI ONES, EITHER!!!! Ta for the review...hehehhee

**Naomi:** Aaaw! Ta, senorita! My last comment means: no psycho-analysing me in front of my reviewers. Lol. I don't NEED psycho-analysing, but if I am gonna be "shrinked up" - NOT IN FRONT OF MY REVIEWERS!! (I don't want to give the wrong impression....) Hahha - too late for that, me thinks.................................................................... ;-P

**Hauntedgurrl: **I like cliffies. Hehehe. I never thought I was very good at them, and yet...I just couldn't stop! Lol.

**Jessie:** Coolioness! Thankness! Enjoyness!

**Jesse's babe:** How confusing. Above you is Jessie, and you are Jesse's babe. How hilarious. ........ Except your real name is Rachel. So. You know. Hmmmmmmmmm.

**Gen. Kenobi:** I lub Ewan McGregor! He's so purdy!!!! I love replying to you guys!! It's thanks for reviewing my stories! You guys always make me smile, even with the shortest of reviews. Lol - thanks about the getting published thing....Not too sure about that though...HAHAHA, especially the Aftershave publishing company...Lol. Such a great idea. Only genii like us would appreciate it. Is it genii, or geniuses? How confuzzling....

**DancinSweethart:** I know! Pride and Prejudice is awesome. I still waiting for the DVD for my birthday (in like, 3 weeks!!) hint hint MUM.

**Teen-princess:** HAHA, physco - I think you meant psycho, right? Lol. I always spell psychiatrist wrong. Why would they put a "p" there? WHY? We're starting school on Thursday AND I'M SCARED!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't know what supplies I'll need or if I'll even be SMART enough for my GCSE subjects....my head may just explode.

**UnangelicHalo:** You are so right - heaven _wouldn't_ be heavenly without shopping. Hehehe. I haven't _lost_ "it" or anything. I never _had_ "it". Silly boy.

**Princess Alexiel:** You told your bro about Paul? HAHAHA, man. My bro would think I was mental. The only books he reads are faction, Spot the dog, and Hard Core Porn. (He reads Spot for the pictures). How old is your bro? _NO, _I'm not perving on him. I just like learning about my loverly reviewers (do you think this reflects on how dull and boring my life is? The fact that I like to find out about other peeps? Maybe I _do_ need to be psycho-analysed.) The crows were messed up. I wanted to BBQ them.

**RayHaisa:** You make my story seem like soup - "The plot thickens". Hehehe. Where's the bread for dunkin'?

**Alenor:** Paul haunting her in the shower? Excuth me? Where did _that_ come from? You worry me. All of you. Haha. I may just have to use that idea though..... Lol.

**Also, thanks again to everyone who's STILL reviewing and reviewed _Where's Jesse's VPL?_ - you guys rock! Haha. Your reviews make me laugh.**

**AND, I'm thinking of posting a 1800-Where-R-U story. BUT, I will post the first chappie ONLY (I have written 3) and if I get ok reviews, then I will post the rest. So, please can you like, sample it and post your HONEST reviews? (The first chappie is REALLY weird - I was slightly drunk, lol. Can you really blame a girl?)**

**I think that's it. I wonder if any of you actually read these bits? Or are you all too selfish and only read your acknowledgements? I feel so used... HA! Or not. You guys rock my pretty pink socks off.**

**ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ACK ACK ACK! Furball...**

* * *

Needless to say, I left Paul's house pretty sharpish after that.

Can you blame a girl? His grandpops had just told me that in trying to save Paul's life, I would be sacrificing my own.

I wasn't gonna be sticking around the object of my untimely death for much longer after _that_, I can tell you.

So I walked home slowly, my mind not really on the walking or the journey back. I was about twenty minutes away from Paul's glass house when he appeared beside me.

My death dressed in Lacoste and smelling of sophisticated man. Only instead of the scythe, he was holding my book bag.

"Forget something, Cinderella?"

I made a silent grab at the bag, and he let me take it. "I was talking about the prince," he said, taking back my bag and resting it on his shoulder.

"I didn't see my Prince Charming and I really don't do balls," I said neutrally, concentrating on not limping into any poison ivy.

"I'm pretty sure I could help you with that. I know a real good way of making you _do balls_," he whispered.

"Paul!" I screeched, maybe a little higher than I would have liked. But, come on! He was talking about men's _dangly bits_! I have fully not reached that stage with my mother yet, I'm not about to discuss it with the living Testosterone. "Do you _have_ to turn everything I say into a foul innuendo? Just because you have no ethical morals, doesn't mean all of us are as uninhibited as you!" I hobbled a little faster.

Yeah, like I could out-limp a tall hunk of pure muscle and long legs.

"Sorry. I just become a big piece of raging hormones whenever you're near me."

"Oh good. Nice to know you're not like this with every woman. Makes me feel a lot better," I snapped. I don't know why. Maybe because I was feeling a little uneasy walking with the reason I may be ending my life very soon?

Unfortunately, Paul noticed my rather abrupt mood too. "Jeez, Suze. What did my grandpops say to you when you were gone?"

"Nothing," I said. When really it wasn't nothing at all. And it was playing inside my head over and over again.

"Sure, Suze. That's why your tense as hell and scared out of your wits."

I stopped in my tracks. "I am not scared out of my wits," I scoffed. Cos I wasn't. Just because I knew I was going to die a little sooner then expected, didn't mean I was _scared_!

Paul took advantage of my stand-still by grabbing hold of my arms. "Suze, come on. Just _tell me_. I want to help." And I believed him. It was a shame there was nothing he could actually do to help.

I stared helplessly up at him, my mind in turmoil. I could tell him...but he'd feel guilty. Or maybe he wouldn't? Maybe he's just stare in my face and go, "So?" in which case I wouldn't help him and would instead feel like a murderer the rest of my life.

But was it better to feel like a murderer, or like the victim of a murder? Ooh, tough choice. And there's no over-excited audience to help me out, either. Where was the wheel of fortune when you needed it?

Paul grinned. "You wouldn't believe how cute you are when you confused."

I promptly did something that to this day I am very ashamed of doing:

I broke down into tears.

Seriously. One minute I was standing up and gazing into Paul's face in confounded anguish, the next; I was collapsing in a sobbing heap towards the ground.

If it hadn't been for Paul's snatch of me into his chest, I would've most likely obtained yet another serious injury.

He pulled me against him and stroked my hair as I left my snot and salt-water mark on him. "Jesus, Suze, just what the hell did that crazy old geek say, anyway?"

But I couldn't very well _tell_ him, could I? Not when he was being so nice to me. I didn't want him to feel responsible and guilty for my death. And at the same time, I didn't want to feel responsible and guilty for _his_ death.

Yet, I doubt either of us actually wanted to die. I knew I didn't. So of course Paul wasn't going to want to die either. I mean, he had a much better chance at living than I did anyway. He had a chance to actually _be_ something. He was smart and good-looking and didn't let ghosts ruin his life.

"Do you want to live a long and fruitful life?" I asked in between hysterical sobs. How embarrassing. I jus couldn't stop. And they weren't normal sobs, either. They were big, gulping, sniffing, howling sobs. The kind that strongly resembled a dozen foghorns being blared successively.

If Paul was taken aback by my seemingly random question, he didn't show it. He just continued to soothe me with his hair-stroking and calm voice.

"As long as I have the right person to share it with, then yes."

Well, okay then. In that case I could just persuade Paul that he was never going to find the right person to share it with. Then he would _surely_ not want to live.

"What if you never find the right person?" I sniffled.

"I already have," he whispered.

If that was supposed to be a comfort, it wasn't. I howled with even more passion this time and clung to front of his sweater. This meant if I killed myself for Paul's life, he wasn't going to want it anyway!

Which meant he was going to have to let himself die! Excellent! I'm saved!

Then why was I still crying harder than ever?

Eventually I stopped. Crying, I mean. I looked up at him with big, round, tearful eyes and asked, "What would you do if I said I had to die?" I didn't think I should add the "to save you" part just yet. I wouldn't want him to break down and cry like I had just done because he was going to lose me.

This time, Paul did look taken aback. "Why would you have to die?" He asked.

"No reason," I said, looking down at the pavement and scuffing my sneaker on it.

"Dammit, Suze, what's going on? You're really starting to freak me."

_Just you wait til I've finished freaking you out. Then you'll regret ever asking that question_, I thought bitterly.

"Okay. The good news is: I know how to save you. In a roundabout way."

Paul nodded solemnly. "And the bad news?"

I took a deep breath. "One of us will either commit suicide saving you, or will commit homicide saving you."

I looked up at Paul and saw him staring down at me. His breathing had slowed and he looked scarily blank-faced.

"Paul?" I asked timidly. "You are still alive right? Otherwise this whole me-dying-to-save-you thing might just be a bit of waste of time."

Paul gripped my arms, hard. I kinda gasped at the shock of it. "What? _What_ did you just say? You-dying-to-save-me thing? _What thing?_"

Might I add that all the while Paul was rambling this off, he was also shaking me really hard?

"Paul, _Paul_!" I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed them. "Stop shaking me," I said slowly, like a teacher when she or he is telling off a child in the gentlest way.

Paul stopped but he proceeded to pull me into him in a firm, tenacious hug. "I am _not_ letting you die," I whispered vehemently into my hair. I didn't think now was a good time to tell him that he really didn't have a choice in the matter.

But all of this did confirm one thing for me: God does actually hate me. As soon as I was up there I was going to be having a few words with the big guy, Himself.

First though, I had to deal with the people on earth. Foremost: Paul.

"Tell me everything he said. _Everything_," Paul said viciously. I don't think he quite believed me.

"Your grandpa said that I have to "think of the basics – the simplicities of the ordeal" and then I have to reverse it. I have to fill that void with what you're missing. And then he said that it may just be the death of me."

He said it so casually. Anyone would have thought he _wanted _me to die. Maybe I should have listened to the crazy old coot when he told me to stay away from his grandson.

Paul held me in place with a sharp blue-eyed gaze. He looked hopeful. "He said it _may_ be the death of you."

This wasn't all that comforting.

"Yes. May. That's still not quite the same as, "Suze will not be risking herself _any_ physical or mental harm at all, _ever_." Because that would be great."

"You're not going to die, alright? I'm not gonna let you. We'll figure out how to do this without killing you."

"Well, the only other option is that we kill you. And I'm not a murderer. I totally don't suit those orange jumpsuit thingies."

Paul looked amused. "I'm pretty sure they don't actually have to wear those, you know."

I gave him my bitch-look. "Oh, and that makes up for the fact there aren't any Kate Spade catalogues or Jimmy Choos? Not to mention I won't be able to wear my new Bobbi Brown stay-put lip liner?"

"Why would you need stay-put lip liner? It's not like I'll be in there."

It took me a while to figure this out. After all, he was, more often than not, the reason my lip liner gets smudged. Him and his soft, cushiony lips.

But now was not the time to be thinking of that. It didn't help, though, that he was standing so close to me.

"I need to get home," I said definitively. "I have to think about our predicament."

Paul crouched slightly so his eye level was the same as mine. "It's my predicament. Not ours, definitely not yours. _Mine_." I swallowed and nodded. If only he wasn't being so nice and kind about all of this. He was basically giving himself us to the slaughterhouse.

He really must love me.

Poor guy. I suppose this isn't what people mean when they say things like, "I love you so much I might die." Usually then they mean their heart might burst it's so full of love. Not that their heart might completely stop because they give up all their life trying to save another. Because that's just unromantic. In a romantic kinda way.

"I'm going to walk you home now, okay?" He gave me a nervous smile.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, what if-"

Paul's smile turned dry. "Neither of us are going to suddenly drop dead just bu hanging with each other, Suze. I'm pretty sure we actually have to do some work like my grandpops said."

He had a point. I just wasn't too sure I wanted company. Being told you have to kill yourself to save someone else doesn't' exactly put you in a festive, social mood, you know?

Plus I wasn't too sure how Jesse was going to take the news. I knew he never liked Paul, but I got the feeling this might just push him over the edge. I'm pretty sure Jesse wouldn't mind murdering Paul – instead of me doing it – so that I could carry on respiring and pumping blood around my body.

We were pretty silent on the walk home. Well, we weren't exactly eager, all of sudden, to find out how to cure Paul when the consequences seemed so dire – even more dire than having Paul back with us, full-bodied.

I'm not normally a girl who likes ultimatums, and this one proved my reluctance to start. Liking them, I mean. "Die or kill the (other) guy who loves you" doesn't exactly inspire me to do much, at all.

I wanted to go home and sleep and wake up with this all being a weird and wacky dream. Obviously I'm still growing into my mature mind. And I had a lot of growing to do.

It was like that Michael Cain film, _The Swarm_. When all the killer bees are wreaking havoc and – surprise, surprise – killing off the Texan population, and there doesn't seem to be much hope. _That's_ what it was like. Those first minutes after the doctor tried an antidote to the bee's venom, and it doesn't work. That's _exactly_ what it was like. All hope is lost and the bees are still coming. Only they've been slowed down because of a cold, Alaskan front trapping them in the Texas region. But everyone knows it's only a matter of time until that Alaskan weather fades and those bees are heading out towards the big cities.

The Alaskan front in my story is that we have no idea how to even begin to save Paul.

But that would soon fade. And then: it was kill or be killed time. Those bees are coming. At least it's not flying poison ivy, or something like that.

When we got to my house, I murmured a brief good-bye and practically ran up to my house. I know, not exactly the move of a gracious host or anything. But still. I really needed some alone time.

I sat on my bed and stared off into the distance. Okay, not really the distance considering my wall is only like five foot from the end of my bed, but you get the idea. Dr. Slaski's words just kept going round and round in my head.

"_Fill that void with what he's missing."_

Just what _was_ missing? A month ago I would've said his mind. Paul did seem like the crazy guy you get in all the movies.

But now I wasn't so sure.

He was always going on about missing my love, missing me. How I was I supposed to fill that void? Jump into him through his mouth, or something? Maybe just my tongue would do...I've filled _that_ void often enough, if you know what I mean.

No. I'm pretty sure _I_ wasn't that void.

"_..think about the basics."_ Well,Paul was semi-dead.

"_The simplicities of the ordeal."_ Paul's life had been half stolen from him.

"_And then reverse it."_ Give Paul back his life.

"..._it may just be the death of you."_ How did that fit in? To reverse it...I would have to give Paul back some life. Half of some life, to be exact. So how was that...

Uh oh.

_Uh oh_.


	12. Love Struck And Unwilling To Lose

**A/N:** Yoyo, fair moomins! I fear I may have overdone it in this chatper...lol. I was watching a wee bit too much _She's All That_, where the actors over-react to EVERYTHING. And I guess it got rubbed off on me.

Get off....ew, get OFF....AAAAAARGGGG - NOT THE FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**dreamingducky:** Hehehe. I'm updating...

**deadly-terrors: **What other kind of watsits do you get??? Fine. You get nothing for your insolence.

**SweetestReject:** I really think I should stop posting with cliffies on the end...Lol. I JUST CAN'T STOP, THOUGH!!

**Nice Hayley:** "So beautifully designed like knitting or embroidery." - excuth me? Delilah doesn't knit. She cross-stitches. I don't think you should die so that Paul and Suze can be together....Somehow, that doesn't strike me as normal... Heh heh heh. The bees are coming, Hayley...they're coming for you... Buzzzzzz buzzzzzz buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

**Pens in potatoes:** Your reviews make me smile. Or that might be gas...

**DancinSweethart:** The mere THOUGHT of mens dangly bits makes me giggle hysterically. A wet fish being slapped in your face is a good cure, I find.

**Roomate513:** Continuing....

**xxreixx:** I'm sorry my previous chapter was depressing....NOT. Sorry I confused you too....Lol. And NEVER will I ignore one of my reviewers. NEVER. Okay, maybe sometimes. But I am eviiiiiiiil.

**Alenor:** You're not dumb. That "uh oh" was supposed to be confuzzling. If you picked up on what it was for, well done you, smart ass. If not, then you are in my league! AND I'M WRITING THIS THING!!! Well, okay. So my slave monkeys ar writing this thing. But what's the difference, really? EVERYONE likes really quick updates. EVERYONE. Even I do. But sometimes, Fate intervenes....as does school. That bitch. Oops. Sorry. LANGUAGE, DELILAH, YOU CHEEKY BOY!

**znadias24:** Hehehe. If I've still got your attention after this, it's purely the bight lights and pretty colours...

**MystiqueAngelique:** Haha, you're right. The balls thing was gross, I apologise. (I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I WROTE??? WHAT DID I WRITE ABOUT MEN'S DANGLY BITS????) Sorry this wasn't up "tomorrow" - I really am. But I had a panic attack about my coursework and I just HAD to go and eat all the food in my kitchen. It's the way God wanted it. And you are TOTALLY an AMAZINGLY STUNNING writer. UPDATE SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or feel the wrath of God...(moi)

**UnangelicHalo:** Lots of Jesse - but I doubt in the way you meant. Hehehe.

**tt:** You constitute as a weiner. Use this information wisely, my son.

**Naomi:** I updated!

**Hauntedgurrl:** Your insane ramblings make me smile like this: :)

**wickedwiccan1:** My friend (tt) is obsessed with wiccan and stuff like that. Perhaps you should take up stalking her for a hobby? Glad I made you laugh ;-P

**Oenone:** Wow. Deep stuff. I think you are Jesus. Please, correct me if I'm wrong.

**Gen. Kenobi:** Hehehe. I was quite proud of my cliffie. Though I think I may be pushing the cliffie limit now...Lol. You guys are losing patience (whoever sent that cheese sauce to me in a hate letter - I'm on to you, beyotch)

**Teen-Princess:** I always spell short words wrong. It's hilarious. No one at my school is discussing the Olympics!!! It's quite beautiful. I'm anything but genius level. I just get by because of my quirks. And sleeping with the board examiners helps, too. I'M JOKING, MY DAHLINKS. I VOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING SO CRUDE! Yeah, I only give 'em blowj- Hahaha. No. I'm stopping there. You are too young. Moowahahhaa.

**Princess Alexiel:** Wait a minute....aren't you deadly-terrors? Omigod. My mind can't cope. I have peeps emailing left right and centre, I keep getting reviews, AND I lost the last of my marble last weekend only to find it underneath my mattress with a DENT in it!!! MY MIND JUST CAN'T COPE!!!! Hehe doodling his name in your notebook: EXCELLENT!

**CONTINUING THANKS FOR PEEPS WHO KEEP REVIEWING MY ONE-SHOTS!**

**You do make me laugh, you age-old geezers.**

* * *

The good news?

I knew what it took to save Paul.

The bad news?

I didn't know _exactly_ what to do to save him.

The even worse news?

There was no doubt about it. I wasn't going to live to see my seventeenth birthday. Which was only in a month.

Was I too young to make a will? How was I supposed to explain this to my mom, to David, to my friends, to Jesse? Was it going to painful, my death? Would Paul live on to be a famous Calvin Klein underwear model and dedicate his work to me? If so: _phwoar_. And boy, was I gonna be mad when I missed it.

And Jesse. What about Jesse? Was I gonna move on, leaving him trapped in this hell forever? Or was I gonna stay here with him, trapped in this hell forever?

Oh, God. I felt sick.

I ran to my bathroom and promptly chucked up my entire stomach, including the lining, it seemed. This was finally it.

This was my ending.

All those times when I'd been fighting ghosts or murderers, and I thought that eventful action was going to be the death of me. When really, I was going to die a quiet and completely _dull_ death. Dull compared to getting beaten to a bloody pulp/getting shot/getting thrown off tall buildings.

I felt completely numb. All around. Inside and out. Like nothing mattered anymore, nothing had mattered before hand. It was all over. Without a clap and a bang. It would all be over.

"_Querida!_ _Nombre de Dios_, are you alright?" Jesse crouched down beside but I resolutely avoided his eye, pushing myself up and washing my face. And cleaning my teeth – barf breath, I don't think so.

"I'm fine. Just felt a bit queasy." I pushed silently passed him into my bedroom.

Of course, being Jesse, he followed me.

"It's more than that. I can feel it. Tell me, _querida_."

He looked so full of concern that I didn't have the heart to tell him. What would he do without me? Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not being incredibly egotistic or bigheaded. But seriously. I was all Jesse had. I mean, I was the only one – except for Father Dom and Paul, but, excuse me, I'm not sure they can offer the companionship to Jesse as I can – who could actually _see_ Jesse.

I tried to smile at Jesse and failed miserably. He looked so scared and worried and affectionate.

And suddenly, after feeling only numbness and nothingness, I felt angry and sad.

And I burst into tears.

Jesse leapt to my rescue, and scooped me up in his arms, soothing me with calming sea-and-whale noises. "Shhh..." he cooed, like it would all be fine. By shutting up, none of this would have happened.

Well, he could take his whale noises and stick them up his-

"Susannah, please. I don't understand. Tell me what's wrong."

After a few gulps in which I tried to swallow my tears – what was it with my big, hiccupping crying scenes today? Oh yeah. That's it. Being informed of my imminent _death _– I looked up at Jesse. He had shuffled me over to the edge of the bed and had sat down with me in his lap.

If it had been under any other circumstances, I would have been ecstatic.

Now, however, was not the time for snuggling.

"Well...you know Paul has that teeny-weeny problem of being dead and..._not_ wanting to _be_ dead?" Jesse frowned and nodded. I took a deep breath. "Well...I think I've figured out how to save him..."

Jesse's frown stayed in place, but to be fair, he did try and look like he was over-joyed at the news.

Or maybe that was gas.

(**A/N:** I couldn't resist!! You know when babies look like they're really happy, and then their face scrunches up and it turns out it was just gaseous bowl movement? Well, picture that happening to Jesse...)

Jesse's voice remained neutral. "And?"

Well. If he was going to act like _that_...

"Itcouldverywellbethedeathofme," I rushed out.

Jesse's lips twitched in an indisputable smile. "Why don't you tell me from the beginning," he said. In an unquestionable attempt to calm me down.

I hiccupped a couple of time. This helped somewhat. I repeated what Dr. Slaski said, except for the, _"Of course, it may just be the death of you,"_ part. Jesse nodded unattached to the information I just gave him.

"I don't see that as a reason to cry. No matter how annoying Slater is, I know you seem to particularly enjoy saving people's lives," he smiled dryly.

"Not any more," I muttered darkly.

Unfortunately, Jesse caught it.

"And why is that, _querida_?"

"See – I have to give Paul what he's missing..."

"And he's missing life," Jesse filled in for me.

"Right. _I_ have to give Paul what he's missing."

"Which is life," Jesse confirmed, looking very confused.

"Which in turn means I have to give up some of _my life_. Most probably all of my life, in order for Paul to revived."

I saw the facial reactions shoot through Jesse as he comprehended what I had just told him. Confusion, realisation, shock, fear, sadness, disbelief, and then...nothing.

Blankness.

"You have to give some of your life for Paul's?"

I gave a sheepish nod. Jesse's voice was forcibly steady. Like one slip and he would explode.

"No!" He objected. "It's too dangerous! No!" He sat up and basically threw me off his lap. You would've thought he'd want to hold me close to him, not make me fly halfway across my room.

"Jesse, it's the only way..." I began.

"Oh?" Jesse interrupted. "Is it? Or is that just what Paul's grandfather – who appears to be in a less-than-stable state of mind, might I remind you – is making you believe?"

I was shocked – seriously, deeply shocked – at what Jesse had said about Dr. Slaski. I mean, normally he's so refined and full of finesse. And here he was getting all angry at a crazy – I mean, _ill_ – old man! Could the guy help that he was crazy – _I mean, ill?_

"I'm pretty sure Dr. Slaski _doesn't_ want to purposeful kill me, Jesse," I said in a pretty sarcastic voice. Seriously, though. Why would he want to kill me? I was adorable. And he had warned me to stay away form his grandson – _some_ proof of his remaining sanity.

"Oh? And how do you know? How do you know he doesn't have any control over his actions? He might not intentionally want to kill you, but he's _ill_, Susannah! He's not to be trusted!" Jesse was stomping round my room and my mirror was shaking.

"Well duh, Jesse! That's why we're going to research it more. But I was just _warning_ you that maybe that was what going to happen! It makes sense, if you think about it!" I, too, was standing now.

Jesse stilled and stood facing me, his chest heaving. "What does Paul have to say about it? What does the reason for your impending _death_ have to say about all of this, huh?" Before I could even say anything, Jesse held up his hand. "Let me guess. He's acting upset and regretful, but he's doing nothing to stop you _sacrificing_ yourself like a lamb being sacrificed for a god?" Jesse sneered at me.

I don't know what was more upsetting – his reaction to what I had just told him, or the fact that maybe, _maybe_, Dr. Slaski was lying and wanted me dead. Neither was exactly an enlightening thought.

"_Actually_," I said haughtily, "he doesn't want to go through with it. _He_ said he doesn't want me to harm myself in any way for him."

Jesse took an intimidating step towards me but I didn't back down. "_Harming_ you is different from _murdering_ you, Susannah," he said ironically.

"He _wouldn't_ be murdering me," I said in frustration. I felt like stomping my foot, I really did. "I would be committing suicide for him. _Willingly_." That didn't make it sound any better, did it?

Jesse flinched at my words and visibly balked. "No...I won't let you do it, _querida_," he said, like finally it was dawning on him what was going on.

He leapt forward and grabbed my hands in his, pulling me flush against him. His eyes were imploring mine and I wanted to tear my gaze away...but I couldn't.

"You have a life, Susannah! You can be so great and wonderful! You can be loved and wanted and needed and..." He broke off desperately, searching for more pleas.

I stood firm, but even I could hear the quaver in my voice. "And so can Paul. He can probably be greater than me. He's smarter and richer and already has much better odds at living than I do. How often do you see him stuck in hospital with a bruised and battered body, all courtesy of an angry ghoul?" Jesse opened his mouth to object but I cut him off at the pass. "I've been nearly-killed so many times, Jesse," I said, my tone gentler than before, "maybe this is finally it? Maybe Fate has led me here? God obviously doesn't want me sticking around, Jesse. This could be my calling."

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't giving up.

I was giving in.

And yes, there _is_ a difference. I was letting Fate wind its course, not trying to fight it anymore. Not trying to change my destiny. If my fortune said I was due to die; I wasn't going to fight or deny it anymore.

I was majorly upset, though, that God wanted to bid farewell so greatly. I mean, he wasn't exactly being subtle with the whole Get-Susannah-Simon-off-my-green-and-gracious-earth hints. If anything, I would say God was hiring hit-men to finish me off.

But now...now I was willing to accept that maybe God wasn't one of my biggest fans. Everyone knows that what God wants, God gets.

And it appeared God wanted me dead.

Thanks, God. No, seriously. I only give up an hour of my valuable life every weekday to listen to your clergymen (and women) drone – I mean, preach – about your righteous ways, all to make me a better person for the benefit of everyone. But obviously that's not enough. Obviously God has chosen to _ignore_ all that, and ignore the fact that for the past fourteen years of my life, I've been protecting innocents from getting harmed or murdered by upset ghosts.

I'm a Charmed one. I'm Alyssa Milano, without the boobs and ever-changing hairstyle.

I fully appreciate _normal_-looking hair. Not I've-just-had-the-dude-from-the-Texas-Chainsaw-Massacre-hack-my-now-abnormally-short-fringe-to-pieces-looking hair.

Jesse let out a growl and twirled round, punching his arm in a full circle. If he had been standing near anything, his fist would have connected with it. As it was, he wasn't standing near anything. But he didn't need physical contact. He had his superpowers, didn't he? So with that wide arc of his arm, he managed to send all my loose bottles and bit and bobs on the top of any surface flying.

They all crashed to the floor in an array of plastic, glass, powders, liquids, smells, and colors. I stared at the mess, then at Jesse. Then at the mess again.

Then at Jesse again.

I stayed staring at Jesse for a long while. He just stared up at the ceiling. "_What the hell did you do that for?_" I screamed in anguish.

Some of that perfume was expensive! Not to mention my brand new photo frame I had set up there – it was a picture of Gina and CeeCee and Adam all in a group hug standing on the beach. Adam was making a very exaggerated leering visage, CeeCee's eyes were sparkling with amusement, and Gina was...well, Gina. A smirk, a cocky tilt of her head, and an "I welcome you to Ginaland" glint in her eye.

Said photograph was now lying on my floor with a great big crack splitting its glass cover in half.

I thumped Jesse on the arm. "_What the hell were you thinking?"_ I repeated, more anger evident this time.

"Suze!" I heard a voice from downstairs. "Is everything okay?"

I growled at Jesse before turning my head – eyes still locked on Jesse's upturned face – toward my door. "Yeah. I just...slipped and fell into my dresser. I'm fine!"

I'm pretty sure I heard my mom make some "tutting" noises.

I faced Jesse full on.

After what seemed like a couple of hours, Jesse slowly looked down at me.

I felt my mouth drop open in horror and my eyes widen so much it hurt. It was like two different people were pulling my face in two opposite directions.

And I'm pretty sure my heart stopped too. I had to thump my chest really hard to get it going again. All the while, gaping up at Jesse like he had just told me KFC chickens _wanted_ to be made into tasty little chicken burgers and actually forced the old Colonel to lock 'em up and then chop 'em up.

I was looking at Jesse like that because his eyes were glistening.

Now, I'm not talking about moonlight-reflection-glistening. Or I'm-so-happy-I-could-burst-glistening.

I'm talking about tear-drops-building-up-glistening.

His eyes were swimming as he continued to stare down at me, looking so lost and forlorn I could my own tears burning horribly.

And then he reached out his hand to touch my cheek, and a single drop spilled over. Trickling down his high-sculpted cheeks, weaving a tiny trail across his smooth skin.

"I won't let you go," he whispered. And I shook my head. Though whether it was because I was disagreeing, agreeing, or dismissing the blunt but gentle statement I don't know. His hand cupped my chin and fierce ferocity came over him, as he gripped my chin tightly and spoke through his teeth. "I_ can't_ let you go!"

We stared at each other some more.

And then some more.

I had no idea what exactly he was thinking. His eyes were searing into mine with so much passion I was getting dizzy, getting swept away by it all.

If this was how he was reacting now, how was he going to react when – _if_ – Paul's grandpa's theory was confirmed? I mean, now we were just speculating. We didn't have any hard facts, or anything.

What was he going to do when – _if, if –_ I really was gone?

Suddenly all I wanted to do was tell him it was all a big hoax. Tell him it wasn't true. Tell him I was lying.

Of course I couldn't. So I settled for the only, weaker, option.

"Look, Jesse...It may not happen, okay? I might not need to die or...anything else. Maybe Grandpa Slater just popped a few too many pills?"

Jesse, however, remained unconvinced. He just kept shaking his head, tears making his eyes shine brightly, even though their color was darker than a witch's cat. "How many times have you been through a near-death experience? How many times have you pulled through? How many dangers have you fought and come through? And yet you're willing to let yourself be taken by such a..._serene_ way! The Susannah I knew would want to die in battle, to die fighting."

Jesse was beginning to look angry now, the sadness still etched on his face, but the anger painted between the lines, glowing blood red and fresh. "_This isn't you_," he insisted. I was inclined to tell him otherwise, but thought better of it. "This is what Paul is making you think. Making you do. He's being selfish and cruel. _You don't want to die_," he maintained.

"Of course I don't want to die, Jesse!" I yelled heatedly. "I want to live a long and progressive life with you and my friends and family! _But I don't have a choice!_ Why can't you see that? You tell me I'm not a murderer, than prove your faith in me! I am _not_ a murderer, Jesse. You know it," I said sadly. "And that only leaves one other option."

I could see the tenacious fury in Jesse's eyes, the reluctance to back down. He was adamant to believe that there was another way when there wasn't.

Suddenly hope flared in his eyes, truth and revelations. "No," he whispered huskily, "there _is_ another way." He looked at me and his eyes were hard, boring into me relentlessly. "I'm going to see this Dr. Slaski." I opened my mouth to argue, but didn't see any point.

I kind of wanted Jesse to check, anyway. Just to be sure. I was too afraid to go, too afraid of my fears being confirmed. Maybe if Jesse went...the pain wouldn't be so much?

Yeah, and Winnie the Pooh carried a machete and a P90 semi-automatic in his ubiquitous honey pot.

"Then," Jesse declared, "I'm going to see Slater." The horror struck me just as Jesse's blue sparkles disappeared. Slater, not Slaski. He had already said he was going to see Slaski.

That meant...that meant he was going to go see the other Slater.

Paul.

And _that_ meant very, _very_ bad news for Paul.

I wasn't a murderer, and neither was Jesse. But I've seen _Mother, May I Sleep With Danger_. I know what love can do to a guy.

And it isn't always pretty.


	13. Guys Suck

**A/N:** Hi! Finally, the moment you've all been pestering me for! And, I'm sorry to say, it's another dark one.

I don't know what's happening, but the darkness just keeps on spilling. SOMEBODY SAVE ME!

**SweetestReject:** Winne the Pooh IS evil, I've seen his P-90 and his machete. And I've seen his hit list... Pooh, Pooh, Pooh, whatcha gonna do?

**gatorchick007:** For a speechless gal, you sure use a lot of "lols", lol. ;-P

**NiceHayley:** Are you saying dead peeps can't cry? How prejudice of you, how completely...death-ist of you? And 20 year olds cry! How age-ist of you. And GUYS cry. How sexist of you. And Jesse's cry! How...Jesse-ist of you. I should stop now. You did 60 push-ups? You had to chase bees? Dude, has anyone ever asked you if they could make your life into a movie starring Jim Carey?

**DancinSweethart:** Many peeps have asked me why Suze is willing to commit suicide for Paul. Many peeps have told me I'm a moron and have got the characters completely screwy. I like to ignore those peeps and tell them - Anyhoo. Suze is not 'willing', per se, to kill herself for Paul. It's more like her duty, an obligation. I mean, come on. If she killed Paul, just to save her life, don't you agree she would never get over it? It would tear her apart and ruin her life. Suze truly believes Paul has a better future than her, and she's not a selfish person. She understands that her family would miss her; but think about it. If she died, she could be with Jesse, finally. Given the choice, Suze would pick life, any day. But she's not given a choice, she's given a very harsh, and seemingly choice-less ultimatem. Would you be able to commit murder just to save your puny ass? (No offence to your ass)

When I think about Suze's character, I don't see her as a selfish person, or a particularly cold and heartless person. All her life she's been giving and giving and helping others, and I don't think she's suddenly going to change. She's lived a life of kindness, and that's how she's learned to live, she doesn't really know how to be intentionally cruel and if she thinks it's the better solution for her to die and Paul to live, than I honestly believe she would do just that and let Paul live. Wow this is long. To round off, though, how **I** picture Suze may be different to how you guys picture her, if so then I can understand how my plot so far may seem incomprehensible. But seeing as it's my story, I thought it would be easier - and wiser - to write it how I view things, rather than getting it completely wrong by trying to please EVERYONE.

**SmiLEe Blob:** Awww! You are such a doll! I love being in peeps' faves! Makes me feel a warm glow inside... like swallowing a light bulb.

**Pens in potatoes:** Hehehe, thank you! Sorry it's been so long since I updated!!!

**libidinous:** You know, it's AWFULLY confuzzling when everyone goes round changing their names!!!!! Lol. Suze can't give Paul Jesse's life because Jesse is dead and he has no life to give. Plus, you will find out later on why it has to be Suze... or someone LIKE Suze...

**Oenone:** Your friend is a he and he loves me story??? Now it's MY eyes that are filling with tears! No seriously. Or was that just a typo on your part and you just missed off the 's'? Och well. Glad I seem to be welling lotsa peeps' eyes with tears, I can't explain how happy that makes me feel! (Would you be shocked if I told you there was NO sarcasm in my voice WHATSOEVER? Cos there isn't. Your tears are like gold nuggets to me...or at least, candy bars.)

**emes:** Oooh, coolio name. Thank you! Hope you carry on reading!

**RayHaisa:** See **DancinSweethart**'s acknowledgement for answers on your question: _"...but I do wonder, why is Suze giving up her life so easily. Committing suicide, that's just an ugly option."_ You may be a bit disappointed at the lack of Jesse v. Paul action, though... But I am trying to conjure up some scenes where there is some of that kinda stuff! Preferably with their shirts in a large vat of purple Jell-O...

**Mystique Angelique:** I'm still wondering whether this is going to be a J-S or P-S story too. As soon as you find out, mail me? Lol. Nah, I _do_ know ever-so-slightly where this is heading. I hope. All of the questions about how Paul got to how he is will be explained I swear; but at the mo, none of them know what is happening at all. So you guys will hafta wait until they discover just what the devil is going on until you can also learn... Lol, I'm quite glad you had your 'typing' fingers on when you reviewed, it's so hilarious and entertaining to read all your thoughts. And just a little bit scary.

**UnangelicHalo:** Moomins do indeed rule, Kat. They do indeed. SOON THEY WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Again; sorry about the long update-wait!

**Naomi:** Lol, totally know what you mean about too many cliffhangers....BUT I CAN'T STOP MYSELF! When I come up with the idea for the chappie, I honestly think I'm gonna have a regular ending...but my fingers have otehr ideas and suddenly this scenario pops up and it's just calling to me saying, "Del, Del...cliffie...cliffie is waiting for you, Del..." And out pops a cliffie at the end of my chappie. It's haunting, ain't it? Moowahahaha

**tt:** Hulloooooooooooo!! (I'm gonna put up my other story soon, by the way, once I get a few more chappies done - can you beta it pour moi? PLEASE. Ta mooch, love) And I don't believe you when you say you don't want anyone to die. You ALWAYS wish death on someone. And can I say just how nice it is to have my reviewers tell me they aren't actually my fans, and regret ever reviewing my story? Honest to God, it touches my heart, it really does. Warms me to my core, you could say. OR YOU COULD NOT.

**AmethystHannah:** Course I'm going to mention you in my acknowledgements: I mention ALL my reviewers. Unless you tell me you don't want to be acknowledged. BECAUSE I LUB MY REVIEWERS! Even when you criticise, because I know you're helping me and for that I am ETERNALLY grateful, constructive critisicm is sooooo welcome. But not critisicm such as, "She's got the whole darn plot wrong, what a moron" because frankly, that just ticks me off. AND YOU DON'T WANNA SEE ME WHEN I'M TICKED OFF. ;-D

**xxreixx:** Jesse? Do something rash? Well, maybe. Heh heh heh...

**Ellen:** Hehe, I have never been called a cutie pie. Lol. How odd. Not because I'm hideously disfigured...more like, I'm just more of a...hmm...what exactly am I? Tian? Naomi? Anna? A little help here? WHAT am I? Apart from a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtl, because we all know that.

**Alenor:** Hahahaha!!! I ALWAYS call people cheeky boys. It just makes sense. When they are girls. When they are boys they are obviously cheeky girls. Glad you liked my previous chappie, hope you enjoy this!

**dreamingducky:** You scare me. throws cookie crumbs at you and runs

**mecookiemonster:** See above **DancinSweethart** reply for the whole "don't think Suze would die for Paul"

**Princess Alexiel:** Sorry sorry! You are NOT deadly-terrors - je apologise. Lol. Thanks for the belated Happy Birthday, too! Hehhee.

**Thanks for the reviews for all my one-shots (and those still coming in for my VPL story - sheesh, seriously. I thought you'd guys would have stopped reviewing already, obviously NOT!)**

**I have already begun a parody of sorts (or more just a humour piece with a little character exaggeration involved. Heh heh heh) and that is well in the works. It's another short one-shot, but it's a space-filler that I hope you guys don't mind me making. Anyhoo, hope this chappie isn't too dark and drab and dreary and ANNOYING. **

**I haven't read it through (I never read my chappies through; I just CAN'T) so please forgive and poo-iness or spelling badness. Or grammar badness.**

**Yeah. ENJOY! If you can. :-)**

_

* * *

Crap_, I thought. _Why did I always manage to screw these things up?_ I sat hectically pondering what I should do next. Should I call Jesse? Chances were he's probably just ignore me. Should I call Paul? Yeah. That would be good. Although, Jesse would probably follow him... 

Whatever. I'd take that risk.

Standing up, I cupped my hands round my mouth and called. Pointless, I know, but it added effect.

Paul shimmered into view looking curiously amused. He leaned against my dresser with one eyebrow raised. "You called, darling?" He inquired in a sit-com husband tone.

Cute. Real cute. I resisted an eye roll. Now was not the time for joking around.

"Paul," I said as seriously as I could. Which is pretty serious. I get that tone of voice from my mom – being a news reporter she has her own catalogue of vocal tones for different occasions. "Jesse is out to kill you," I informed him, all in my serious voice. I was even frowning to keep up the flow of seriousness that I wanted – I kept on frowning even though I knew I could be at _serious_ risk of worry lines.

So you can tell I was pleased when all the color drained from Paul's face – my serious tone had worked!

Paul didn't appear too pleased. In fact, he appeared quite petrified. "_What?_"

I fiddled nervously with my hands. Maybe I had over-done the seriousness? "I told Jesse about our predicament..." Paul thunked his head against my dresser.

"My predicament, _my_ predicament," he muttered. He looked up at me through wide eyes. "I'm a dead man, aren't I?"

"Let's just say that if you don't die from getting stuck where you are, Jesse will do just an effective job." The scary thing was, I was telling the truth. Jesse had actually been something of a ruffian, a rebellion in his early days. Of course, that was a few years before he'd kicked the bucket, but still.

Paul looked at me funny. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice your life for me. We don't even know if you _need_ to. My grandpops is on so many pills he could start his own pharmacy.

I gave him a sceptical look. One that said, "I wish I could believe you, I really do. But..." Seeing this, Paul opened his mouth – no doubt to berate my pessimism – when someone new joined the party. Someone dead.

Paul lost his color again and I pretty much froze up. We were both expecting Jesse to barge in at any moment and we weren't looking forward to it.

It wasn't Jesse. It was Beth. She had her back to me and was staring avidly up at Paul. Paul was staring back.

"Hello," Beth said.

"Hello," Paul said back.

There was a pregnant pause and I knew Beth was assessing him. "I don't want Susie to die," she said definitively. Paul looked _incredibly_ uncomfortable. He shifted his weight and shot me a look.

"Neither do I," he said. I could feel Bethany scowling and it obviously spurred Paul into some kind of action. The scowling, that is. "I'm going to make sure _nothing_ happens to her," he reassured. A wicked glint came into his eyes and he leered cheekily at me. "That is, as long as I get something in return." His eyes travelled at a leisurely pace up and down my body before finally meeting my slit eyes.

I was not amused.

I turned to Beth. "I'm not going to die," I said. "You, however, have to move on. Beth, you can't worry about me and care about me...honey." Usually, I'm not one for pet names, but I had to soften the blow somehow. Right?

Bethany looked confused. I don't blame her. I _never_ say things like 'honey'. _Ever_.

"But I want to care about you. You look just like my mommy and I loved my mommy. I want you to be my new mommy."

Aw, crap. I was just about to reply – or at least stutter some – when someone materialising into my room caught our attention.

Paul was just about to dematerialise (or as I like to say, get the hell out of here) when a just-forming arm reached out and grabbed Paul by the scruff of his neck. Literally.

It was like something from Ghostbusters. Who was I gonna call?

No one. Because I was the only one who could see them. The dead, I mean. Which kinda spoils it all.

"_You_," growled the embodied voice, "are not going _anywhere_."

Jesse popped into view but his aura had given him away before he had even appeared. It was as dark and thunderous and cloudy as his face. Intimidation was his game. And he was winning.

Paul paled but stood his ground.

"Jesse, I know you're –"

"If you know what's good for you, you will shut up," Jesse said. Paul knew what was good for him.

I was so startled at Jesse's anger I barely heard what he was saying. I had never seen him this..._seething_ and, frankly, pissed off.

"You have been trouble the _moment _you came to Carmel, more directly, you have been trouble for _Susannah_ the moment you came to Carmel. But you would not leave her alone. And for that, she is now paying." Jesse eyes flashed and his lip twitched at the corner. "_I will not let her suffer for your satisfaction, power, or life._"

"Jesse; I _swear_ I –"

"You are selfish and you are stupid. You're a liar, a cheat, un _hijo de puta_, and the Devil's son." Jesse looked like he could spit nails he was so angry, and I was stood shocked and in awe, paralysed. "_Susannah_ is none of these. She is an angel and she is willing to do good and make sacrifices _for_ good." His eyes flashed again and Paul visibly cowered. "_You are not good. Therefore you are not a cause for sacrifice_. Do you understand?"

Paul numbly nodded his head.

"You will leave Carmel by the end of the week. You will leave Susannah's life and you will _never come back_. Understand?"

Paul's eyes slashed to mine.

"Jesse, look. I know your angry but you have to listen. I don't want – "

"What you want and _don't_ want is irrelevant to me and anyone else, Slater. You will – "

"It's _not_ irrelevant, de Silve, when what I want is for Susannah to live a long and healthy life and what I _don't_ want is her to kill herself for me!"

I figured now would be a good time to step in. Now would be a _safer_ time to step in.

"Jesse. Jesse." He didn't turn around. I walked up to him and placed both hands on either side of his face, turning it to mine. "Jesse, I'm not going to die, okay? Paul and I are totally going to find a way out of this. We'll probably only need some chicken blood, candles, and Basilisk fang. And maybe a magic sorting hat and couple of wands. But that's probably it."

Jesse looked unconvinced and baffled. I didn't blame him. He's not a Harry Potter fan. Geek.

"Look; it's cool. Paul and I are gonna research this near-death experience crap on the internet, library, and Paul's grandpa's head and we're gonna come up with a harmless, death-free solution. Seriously."

Jesse gave a disgruntled growl and flung Paul's arm away.

I felt my body relax. Jesse was calming down. But then guess what? He turned on me! Jesse fully turned on me and he was _not_ a happy bunny!

My mouth dropped open. What was he angry at _me_ for?

"And what if you _can't_ find a simpler, safer method, _querida_? _Then what?_ Are you still going to perform the ever-angelic martyr and sacrifice your life for a boy you barely know and don't care for?" He took a step toward me and his eyes narrowed. "What I don't understand is why you are so willing to do this. Why you are so upset about the idea of Mr Slater not being around. This _boy_ has been a nuisance ever since he arrived, or so you told me. Now, however, it seems you are constantly jumping to his defense, willing to help him any way necessary. Are you certain he's not getting anything in return? Or are you simply acting out your Sister Simon nature?"

Jesse's tone of voice was scathing and his words were scoffing and it took me a while to progress everyth5ng he had said to me.

'_Are you certain he's not getting anything in return?_' What the heck was that supposed to mean? And why had he been so sarcastic when he'd said, _'Are you still going to perform the ever-angelic martyr...'_ and, _'Or are you simply acting out your Sister Simon nature?'_ I admit; I'm not always the cleanest of people, and I do go against the occasional commandment. But I never instigated that I was "angelic" or "Sisterly". Come on!

Suddenly, I was _very_ pissed off at my so-called boyfriend. "_Getting anything in return?_ What the hell is that supposed to imply, Jesse? Do you not trust me enough to have any male friends? Do you _honestly_ think I'm cheating on you?"

At Jesse's silence, I gave a laugh that didn't sound amused at all. "Oh, right. _Of course_. I mean, because I'm not from your time, because I'm a modern kinda gal, it's to be expected, isn't it? Because I don't wander round in a hoop-skirt and act like the lady I'm supposed to be, that _naturally_ means I hop into bed with the nearest guy I see, doesn't it? Even though I loved you form the minute I saw you, and even though I've done so many countless things to protect you, and given up so many things to keep you, I'm still not trustworthy? Even though I feel like you own my heart and soul, I'm _still_ going to go round sleeping with enemy?"

I stared at Jesse in disgust. And you know what? He didn't look in the slightest bit remorseful. He just stared right on back with these unfathomable black eyes, and his straight-set features.

"God. It doesn't matter how much I'm hurting at the moment, at the thought of either losing you and everyone else I love – like my _family_ – or staking claim to that fancy, celebrated title of _murderer_, you just want to assume the worst of me, don't you? Well, fine. Then you can just go. You can leave and never come back. Ignore any pain I've gone through in trying to keep you here on earth and just move on to a better life. Or go to heaven where you can be a gentleman with all the hoop-skirt nancies that you want."

When Jesse made no move to do anything of that kind, I felt my anger bubble up a notch. "_Go!"_ I spat. And he did.

The minute he disappeared, I could feel my heart being torn. Like he was holding onto it and tearing it out of me as he left. It hurt and it hurt and I wanted it to stop but I didn't know how.

I wanted to throw something at him. And at the same time I wanted to fall onto my knees and throw myself at him, beg him to come back and hold me and forgive me and love me and never ever leave me.

I wanted to say I was sorry. I wanted him to know how much _I loved him_...I needed him to know.

It was stupid. _I_ was stupid. Why the hell had I done that? Blown up at him? Over-reacted? Threatened our relationship like that? What was I, malfunctioning? I mean, God. We had something...and I had chucked it in the garbage.

Goddamn me! And here were Paul and Bethany, staring at me as I stared at the spot Jesse had just vacated. Bethany's lip was trembling and I couldn't look at her because I knew that if I saw her collecting tears...if I saw her sorrow and pain, then I would just collapse. I would lose my strong demeanour and I would break. Into a million tiny, fragile pieces. And I couldn't have that.

Already, though, against my will and against my brain, I was losing. I was growing weak. My eyes were burning, my throat was constricting painfully, and my breath was growing shorter, turning into pitiful gasps.

And I couldn't look at Paul. Look at the pity that would be there, stark naked, in his eyes. He would be sneering, coming out with some sarcastic comment, teasing me like he always did. My pain was his pleasure, after all. And I still wanted to save him.

"Go, please," I whispered. I was pretty sure I kept the tremor from my voice, and I was pretty sure my voice didn't sound too weak, too much like I'd just been kicked in the stomach, strangled around the throat, and slapped across the face.

I heard Bethany give a sniffle, and I hated her for it.

But she went. And amidst the fury something cool trickled in. I was thankful. She wouldn't see me fall apart.

There was a hand on shoulder and it felt like a punch in the sternum.

"Go," I said in a colder voice. I didn't look at Paul's face; couldn't, really. The hand didn't lift but Paul disappeared too.

Disappeared like Jesse had done, and Beth had done.

Dumb ghosts. Cowards, that what they are. Sticking around because they were too cowardly in their past life, and they're too cowardly in death. If they had taken control when they were alive, they wouldn't be forced to hang about after it. But they were weak, they were contemptible.

I hated them. I mean, honestly. What had they ever done for me?

I wanted to be one. Maybe I could go find some pleasure in haunting some old bag. Or trying to push CeeCee and Adam together, using my mystical powers. I'd be able to keep an eye on Gina, and watch Doc growing up.

Watch Doc as his smile lit up at some passing comment from a girl he liked. Watch Doc as he baffled everyone into silence by some casual speech he'd made. Watch Doc as he found the girl of his dreams, as he kept her, comforted her, told her he loved her, and held his first child in his arms after marrying her.

I wanted to do all that. But the images of Doc's face as he watched me. As he watched me being lowered into the ground by some burly men, six-feet down into the ground, to be precise. The picture of Doc's eyes as he watched my mom and Andy, and maybe even Dopey and Sleepy clearing out my room of all my junk and stuff.

Did I really want to do that to Doc? And not just Doc. There was Gina, Adam, CeeCee, mom, _dad_. Who knows; maybe even Father Dom!

Did I really want to do that to all of them?

Man, ultimatums _stank_.

Hurt everyone I loved by killing myself; hurt everyone who loved Paul (inclusive of Paul) by killing him?

I know that I'd kept on trying to reassure Jesse, and Paul, and Bethany, and sometimes even myself, that maybe, just maybe, there was another way out of this. Telling everyone that Grandpa Slaski had lost his marbles and was just trying to scare us.

But somehow, deep down, I sorta knew that there wasn't another way. I knew that I trusted Dr Slaski a lot more than I trusted Paul, or even myself.

His eyes were clear and sharp, and spoke the truth even though his lips were slow and his speech was slurred.

I was only sixteen, for Chrissakes! Why was I being forced upon stupid deep things like this? It was like giving a driver's licence to a four year old.

And suddenly I felt very tired. I crawled meticulously onto my bed, snuggling deep as if I could burrow my way out of this life and into a better alternative. When, exactly, did it not matter what I wanted anymore? When had that choice of happiness being stolen away from me in the dead of night? Had the gods rolled a die and my name had come top-up, glaring at them in luminescent blood-red font, taunting them and willing them on to all turn against me?

Or had I made one too many mistakes, and this was my price?

Either decision would destroy me; one mentally, emotionally; the other physically. Either decision would result in my own little Chaos theory, spiralling out of control and playing the Fates like harpsichords until the strings twanged and snapped, whipping and flaying out in all directions.

The doorbell rang.

Loud and clear. Rrrrrrring.

Even though my legs felt like sacks of sand, I heaved myself off my bed and walked placidly to the door. No one else appeared from inside the house.

I peeled open the door neutrally, all the while feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience.

At first I didn't recognise who was standing in the doorway. The man who had saved my life was visiting me just as I was contemplating the idea of having to end it. _What a wasted good deed_, I thought bitterly. Oh well, at least someone's got a seat reserved for them at the five-star restaurant 'Heaven'.

It was Jim.

I would have acted more uplifted at his sudden appearance if I had only known that he would be the one who made my choice a lot easier.

That he would, ultimately, lead me to my final destination, the one that I was meant to arrive at.

The man who saved me once, would save me again. In more ways than one.


	14. Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel

**A/N:** Hulloooo, up there! Hope this chappie is okay. I got the feeling it wasn't very realistic snort but I couldn't help it. I also tried to prevent any cheesiness from infiltrating my story, but that didn't happen either. So be prepared for a very odd, corny chappie, ladies and jellyspoons.

**Naomi:** "cutie pies don't kick box?" Now I'm offended. Aw, and I'm glad I made you feel sad. As in, with my story. Not by any other method. I just meant that I was glad I could provide my readers with... Oh, whatever. You know what I meant. ;)

**Christ the Angel:** Hahaha, I like Paul being a victim too. But I agree, I don't reckon he's as evil-stalkery as peeps make him out to be. He has a heart. He just doesn't know how to show his feelings in a more, shall we say..._gentle_ way.

**xxreixx:** I also liked Jesse grabbing Paul while materialising. I could picture it in my head and thought, "Now THAT looks menacing and cool." Which is what I was aiming for.

**jESSiEnESs:** Lol, thank you! Although, I didn't really learn to write anywhere. I didn't even know I could write anything until I started realising that As on my Enlish work meant GOOD. And to think, I almost began to prefer Maths to English. Thank the Lord I was shown the true path and light before I made that hideous, _heinous_ mistake. Thank. The. Lord. (No offence ye boffs of math ;-P )

**Pens in potatoes:** Hey! Can I just say, I have been TRYING to access your story, but every time it keeps coming up with this HTTP ERROR message. I almost bit my computer. Anyway, I'm gonna keep trying because I might just implode if I don't read it. And that could be very messy.

**NiceHayley:** HAHA! Paul may not have friends, but thank God he has the PFC. You make me smile. And eat ice cream. But I think that might not have something to do with you. I'm not too sure. We shall see. We shall see.

**UnangelicHalo:** Lol, in much of a rush, were you? :)

**Mystique Angelique & Devil at Heart:** Suze fall in love with Jim? Hmm...you're putting ideas into my minnnnnd... I'm glad I'm, according to Kate, "hell good." FOR I AM THE DEVIL AND YE SHALL KISS MY FURRY-HOOFED FEET. (Hi Kate! I don't think I've spoken to you via the godliness of acknowledging my reviewers on fanfiction, so HI!)

**RayHaisa:** I hope this is long enough! Lol, I have wrung my brain dry trying to come up with some stuff to put in my chappies to make them longer (I really should start planning my entire story before I begin writing) so I hope ye likie!

**Alenor:** Hope your exams go okay! I am indeed a limey. JE SUIS ANGLAISE! How come you're on holidays? Frankly, monsieur, I find that just a little bit mean. I want a holiday. And I haven't been at school for that long, either. Lol. I'm just laaaaazy as pie.

**Gen. Kenobi:** Moowahahaa, I am quite proud of my cliffies, thank you. And I thought Suze deserved to have a bit of a "losing it" moment. I mean, she's just been propositioned with death or homicide. And she's had a lot to go through all her life. I THINK I WOULD CRACK!! eye twitches

**Roomate153:** I'm glad you like it. I think Jesse deserved to be sent away, the selfish pig.

**DancingSweethart:** No offence was taken by your question whatsoever, mon petit pois! All questions are welcome as I myself often find it hard to understand what I have written.

**Oenone:** I'm glad Jesus loves my story. Heh heh heh.

**DemonicFireChick:** HAHAHAHA! Will she, won't she? Keep reading and find out! And run from rooms screaming like a crazy person even more. Because that's just funny to watch.

**SwEeT-HoReTy:** Glad you aiméd it! Hope this chappie is long enoooooough!

**annonomous:** Oui, I am British as a bulldog (and twice as hairy ;-P )

**moovalous3:** Ghosts go right through some things, I think. Other things, they can sit on/lean against/pick up/touch, etc. True, Paul is a sexual predator, but he's also misunderstood (or so I like to think, but I say that about most evilians) and, you know, I don't think Suze would be willing to murder anyone. Except maybe Britney Spears. :- 

**Okobojii:** Aw, thanks for your review! And happy birthday (belated)!!! We are special, you and I. Treasure that, and you will go far. Live long and prosper.

**Circus Riddle:** Wow, I have a big fan of my writing! Haha. That makes me smile. Will contact you/check out that info page as soon as I have time, I SWEAR. I am actually interested!!!

**Metallicfire:** Flattery will get you everywhere, mooowahahaa. Thank you so much for toutes les compliments!!! Lol, bless you. Have some biscuit crumbs throws biscuit crumbs

Hope you guys likie likie. As my favourite quote goes,

**That's no moon; that's a space station!**

May the Force be with you, duckies.

* * *

"Jim," I said in shock.

He gave a wary grin and dipped his head sheepishly. I was reminded of Doc whenever he says something particularly spectacular and someone praises him. It was adorable on Doc, it was no was no less adorable on Jim.

"Hi. I said I'd pop by and...here I am!" He spread his arms and his grin grew just a little bit. "Thought I'd check up on you and at the same time see how rich you are and try to guilt you into giving me some of your money."

I gave an unfeminine snort and was surprised that I wasn't just gaping at this almost-stranger in shock.

"Nah, I'm kidding. I don't want your money. I'd much rather have your TV. My roommate managed to lose ours in one of his crazed schemes," he shook his head in disbelief, "I honestly don't know why I put up with him. He's like a puppy. Trouble is; he's not cute enough to sell so I'm stuck with him until he decides to grow up."

This time I full-out laughed, and was _amazed_ at how good it felt. Like a little bit of inner-sun was peaking out from behind a slowly opening door.

"Okay, I'm guessing you won't be persuaded to give me your TV, so I could settle for a sandwich...?"

I realised Jim was still standing on the porch and quickly shuffled out of the doorway so he could come in. As soon as he stepped through the doorway he looked like he was at home, like he had spent all his life living here. It was kinda comforting, actually.

And you know what was weird? He walked straight to the kitchen. Didn't even ask for directions or anything. Just walked straight there and straight to the fridge. I followed in a daze and watched him duck his head into the huge fridge.

"You got any sandwich materials in here? Jeez, you could probably fit a cow in here. You ever hide your brother in here to scare your parents when you get bored?" He pulled out some turkey slices and made a murmur of approval before setting the turkey on the table and searching the fridge some more.

"Nah, the fridge is always too full of – get this – _food_! So we never... Wait a minute, how did you know I had a brother?"

Jim momentarily stilled his movements in the fridge, and then carried on rummaging. He pulled out a huge, buffalo tomato. "Yeah you did. On the drive to the hospital. Remember?"

Frankly no, I didn't remember. "Oh, okay."

Jim crouched down and pushed the upper half of his body entirely into the fridge. "So how you doing? Any aches, pains?" He pulled his head out of the fridge and gave me a serious look. "Any more visitations from big, bad men?"

"No big bad men," I assured him, and Jim disappeared back into the depths of the fridge. Was he building a sandwich or trying to feed the marines? "And no aches and pains. Well, a few. But I'm used to them."

If I expected Jim to ask why, I was pleasantly surprised. He made a non-committal noise and, I'm pretty sure, muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Don't I know it." But I must have been wrong.

Jim rocked back on his heels and rose to a standing position with his arms clutching meat, sauces, salad, pickles, bread and cheeses. And some strawberries. But I didn't ask what those were for. I didn't want to know.

"So how's life going for you then?" He asked, plucking out several slices of bread and going directly to the cutlery drawer. How did he know where everything was?

He was being a lot chattier, too. Not that I minded. It was endearing and reassuring.

"Not too good." Now why did I say that?

"Oh?" He looked at me with concern and anxiety. "Anything I can help with?"

Sure, if you know how to fix my love-life, save me and my fellow mediator, _and_ help a little girl who's getting way too attached for her good to move on. If you can do that, then be my guest.

Instead I smiled sadly. "Nah, but thanks for the offer." His eyes continued to search mine for a few more moments and I had to look away from the searing intensity.

After a while, he went back to making his sandwich. "You know what I do whenever I'm in a fix? I consult my friends."

I pictured that in my head. CeeCee would research and research, but probably offer no moral help. And Adam would just check my forehead for a temperature and suggest a couple of hours in his hot tub, inclusive of Adam.

"I go to my old friends. The ones who know I'm like. The wise ones. The old ones. And you know what my friend did? When he was knee deep in trouble, he turned to the church. Turned to God. Helped him no end. They were sympathetic, they understood him, and they helped him see the way. They way best for him, and everyone else he wanted to help."

I tried to see myself confessing to some priest in a church, but I just couldn't.

"Old friends, the church. You go to a Catholic school, don't you? Got any people who fit under any of those categories?" I glanced up at Jim and caught him staring at me, his eyes seeming to urge me on...though urging me on to what, I wasn't sure. "Think about it."

Jim turned back to his super-sandwich, and began to sing softly and quietly. "Dum, dum, dum dum dum dum..."

All the while I was thinking deeply. Did I know anyone I could turn to?

"Dom, dom, dom dom dom, _dom dom DOM..."_ Jim sang.

Of course! Father Dom! As soon as the thought hit me, Jim stopped singing. He grinned knowingly at me when I grinned up at him, and his eyes twinkled with...something.

"As a matter of fact, I do know someone who fits under both those categories," I said.

"Oh? Well that's great! Lucky you. Who'd have thought you'd know someone who fitted _both_ categories? You obviously have a guardian angel looking out for you," Jim said. He appeared suspiciously to be trying to hide a smile.

"I wouldn't be so sure about the guardian angel thing," I said wistfully. No guardian angel would make me have to go through all this.

"Now why'd you say that?"

"My life has never been too easy, I'd say my guardian angel was either spending too much time at some bar or, plain and simple, he – or she – just didn't exist."

I watched Jim finish off making his sandwich with a flourish and he brought it slowly to his lips, eyeing it all the while with greedy, happy eyes. He took a bite and gave a groan of ecstasy. Talk about overkill.

"There's probably only so much a guardian angel can do," he said through a mouthful of sandwich. "I mean; if they stopped _any_ trouble from happening, think about all those people who'd be out of a job - cops, doctors, _psychiatrists_. Chaos Theory times ten." He took another bite of his sandwich and rolled his eyes expressively.

_Men._

"I just think," I pinched a slice of tomato that was drooping precariously from the edge of his sandwich, "that my guardian angel could be spending less time chasing lady guardian angels, and more time saving my butt from-" I almost said it. That's how relaxed I was feeling around him. I almost mentioned the dreaded G-word.

Meanwhile, Jim choked on his large mouthful.

"_Chasing lady guardian angels?_"

"Or getting drunk on angel beer. Because he's certainly not taking care of me!" A thought suddenly struck me. "Or maybe it's a she? You do get she-guardian angels, right? I mean, God's not that sexist. He was around for the women's suffrages and feminism. Maybe Jesse is my guardian angel? Which would explain why I was always getting into trouble back in New York."

I thought about it for a while. "Then again, I'm still getting into trouble."

There was no questioning that. Jim seemed to be stuck on the chasing-lady-angels thing. Probably indignant. Yeah, cos men are _never_ like that.

He resumed eating his sandwich, adopting a far away look on his face. "How do you know he's not chasing lady _humans_?"

"Because he's an angel. He can't...you know. With the living, anyway. Can he?" Ew, I really didn't want to think about my guardian angel doing it. Not when I pictured him as this big, glowing, righteous dude with a commanding voice, big hands, and a do-right Christian character. Actually, if he did have a do-right Christian personality, that would explain why I wasn't getting 24/7 body guarding.

"Maybe he's dead, but on earth he appears to be living? At least, to those he needs to appear to. Or maybe he's not even dead. Maybe God just picks children out at birth, points his big long glowing finger at them and says, "Ye, child, shall be one of the faithful." And _bam_; the kid's an angel. Whilst being alive. Tough job if that's the way."

Tell me about. That story about God picking out random kids to protect the innocent seemed somehow familiar. And I'm not talking about _Charmed_.

I gave an indifferent shrug, realising how dumb it was to be discussing guardian angels. Next I'd be knocking out my teeth for a glimpse of the tooth fairy.

Jim polished off his sandwich with lip-smacking eloquence and sank back against the counter; genially patting his flat stomach like it was puppy.

He looked around the kitchen casually, taking in every detail. "Nice setup you got here. I bet you get real good views from the top."

"Sure do. I got the room with the ocean view. The advantage to being a girl and a stranger to the family." Now why did I say that?

Jim raised his eyebrows, but in a friendly way. Like he was honestly interested and a bit concerned, even though I had sounded the teensiest bit bitter when I'd said it. I hitched my shoulder in a small shrug. "My mom met Andy, married Andy, we moved down here into a big house and suddenly I had 3 new stepbrothers and a brand new stepfather."

"Ah, I see. Parents divorced and you're a daddy's girl?"

I gave a small cough and began to clean up the mess Jim had made. "I was a daddy's girl." I looked up from my tidying. "He passed away a decade ago," I didn't mention that he hadn't passed as away as I'd like him to.

Jim sounded and looked genuinely contrite when he said, "God, I'm sorry. Life's a real bitch sometimes, isn't it?"

I gave a dry laugh. "Life's a bitch with PMS and no chocolate for me."

Jim bellowed a deep laugh and helped me pack up. He remembered exactly where all the food had come from, that the lettuce had been on the bottom rack and the turkey on the top shelf, in front of the ham.

Jim was midway telling me about his part-time job as a surfboard waxer when he fell silent and stopped moving.

"Susannah?"

I whipped round at the sound of Jesse's voice and gave a short gasp. This seemed to defrost Jim, who carried on as if nothing had happened. Except he didn't look up from his tidying once.

"Susannah!" Jesse sounded annoyed at being ignored. Oh, what, Jesse? Was I supposed to just start a conversation with him whilst in the middle of a conversation with someone who can't actually see the dead?

At Jesse's sharp whisper, Jim glanced up and, I swear, pinned a look so full of anger at Jesse I took a step back. But the look was so brief – and Jim can't even _see_ ghosts – that I figured I was being way too paranoid for my own good.

"Um, Jim? I gotta go pee, I'll be right back." I flew from the room though from mortification that I'd just told him I had to pee, or to escape the intense look Jesse was drilling me with I didn't know.

"What, Jesse?" I asked rudely. Hey, I was still a little peeved off at him. Just because he had the ability to disappear into thin air didn't give him the right to do so whenever things got a little bit tricky.

"Who is he?" He questioned bluntly.

"He's the guy who saved my life when Stiff was beating me into a Suze Simon smoothie. He was just checking up on me," I folded my arms obstinately over my chest. The way Jesse was sounding, you'd have thought Jim ate babies for a living.

"He's more than that, Susannah."

"Oh for God's sake, Jesse! Not every guy I know is trying to get into my pants! You need to get over this, Jesse! God, don't I deserve just a little bit of respect? I mean, I've always-"

Jesse waved a hand and cut me off. "No, no. I mean he's not a normal person."

"He's abnormal?" I said in a flat tone.

Jesse gave an impatient stomp of his booted foot. "I'm saying he isn't a normal human being. He has a...presence."

I blinked. Once. Twice. "Of course he has a presence...if he didn't, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be _present_." I blinked again at him.

Jesse's eyebrows lifted to meet his airline. "_Querida_, he has a ghost-like presence."

Well. That stopped my blinking.

I recovered after a full minute. "No he's not." And I turned right around again and marched straight into the kitchen.

"You okay?" Jim asked. He was leafing through one of Andy's room designs. "Thought I heard voices." He said it nonchalantly enough, but there was just a hint of something...something else underlying his innocent statement. And suddenly I felt paranoid and betrayed and trapped.

"Just singing to myself," I managed to get out. I was stood in the kitchen doorway just staring at Jim. Half willing him to dematerialise and prove Jesse right so my paranoia would go away, and half willing him to randomly tell me he had a pulse and a life.

Jim looked up and scrutinised me, his face giving away no emotions. It was as if the light mood that had settled had been dispersed being a hundred elephants sneezing simultaneously.

"So how's your boyfriend?" He asked, turning back to the designs.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh. I thought you mentioned one when I was driving you to the hospital. What was his name? Jesse?"  
  
I felt my eyes widen but when Jim looked up, I quickly turned my head to look at some invisible lint that I was flicking off my shoulder. "Oh, yeah. He's okay."

"Hmm."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What?" I didn't even care that I sounded defensive.

"Just that, I was pretty sure you were considering dumping him. Said something about him being over-bearing, over-sensitive, over-protective. Sounded like he was a bit of a control freak to me. Guys should trust the girl they love, right? Especially when the girl loves him back and trust him right back. He sounds like he doesn't deserve you, is all. Like he was causing you more trouble than worth."

My eyebrows met over my nose. Now I _knew_ I hadn't told him all of that. "Well, I was a little concussed back then. And it's more complicated then that. I can be a bit of a pain in the ass to put up with."

"No, you're not! He's just got you thinking that."

I straightened my back until I was ramrod stiff. "I think you should leave," I said tonelessly, leaving no room for argument and no misunderstandings. I didn't trust this guy any more.

He stood up. "Suze, look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like that. It's just, the guy doesn't deserve you. And what about Paul?"

My heart gave a shotgun jerk and the force made me fall back against the doorjamb.

"How the hell did you know about Paul? Have you been following me? Stalking me?"

A flash of panic streaked across his face before it was a blank canvas again. "No, I have not been doing any of that creepy stalking shit. Christ. I'm just saying that this Jesse guy sounds like bad news. I'm not saying Paul's any better!" He amended when I opened my mouth. "But at least he respects you."

"Respects me?" I shrieked incredulously. I coughed so my voice didn't resemble a smurf's. "It's taken him about a _year_ to even learn what respect meant, let alone apply it in the physical realm of this world."

Jim gave a grimace. "I know. None of these guys deserve you. Why don't you just run away and find someone else. Someone who goes to Harvard and helps at an orphanage and wants to help you with your duties."

I was about to tell him to get a ticket to the real world and get some insight, when I stopped. It was like the breath had left my body and my voice box had shrivelled up. "Duties?" I croaked.

Again, that panic whizzed across Jim's face. This time, it stayed there.

Before he got a chance to speak, I started. "How did you know about Father Dom?"

Jim feigned innocence. "Who?"

I looked at him through green slits surrounded by thick black lashes. "_How did you know_?" I enunciated clearly.

"I didn't know, I..."

"All those hints. About close friends, about religion and the church, and then that dumb _singing_ using his abbreviated name," he smirked like he thought that was particularly clever. "How did you know about Father Dom? How did you know about Jesse and Paul? How were you able to tell when Jesse came into the room? Are you a mediator, or what?"

All the while staring at me, Jim pulled a strawberry from his pant's trousers and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly and thoroughly, then sucked the ends of his fingers one by one, never taking his eyes of my increasingly darkening face.

"I'm not a mediator," he said.

"Well, that's great. Just what the he-"

"I'm a guardian angel."

I stared at Jim, Jim stared at me.

"Right," I said with a note of finality and 'this guy's obviously taken one too many happy pills', pushing myself off the doorjamb and walking to the front door. "I think it's time you left. Thanks for helping scrape me off the sidewalk that fateful evening, but I don't think it's a very good idea to continue this relationship. We're like two pieces of mismatched puzzle trying to fit together. It just wouldn't work."

I waited patiently as Jim ambled to the front door. He placed a palm on the wood, and gently pushed it close.

"Suze. I'm your guardian angel."

I took a step back from him. "But you're supposed to be chasing lady angels," I squeaked moronically.

Even he managed a tight smile. "Yeah. Looks like I finally took a break to look after my charge."

"What, do you not get paid leave or did you just enjoy watching me getting pulverised and hassled by...people, all my life?" I couldn't help the sting of anger that slipped into my voice. But, come on. Like I was supposed to believe after all these years my guardian angel was showing up. Please.

"You've always come out alright in the end, haven't you?" He cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah, after enduring days, weeks, months – _years_- of trauma and pain."

"Which has all led to your strong character. There's only so much I can do for you, Suze. If I had helped you with every little trouble, you would've subconsciously been left relying on me to save the day for the rest of your life. I did what I thought was best."

His eyes pleaded with me and I almost didn't retort back. "Whatever. I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you because – believe it or not, bub – guardian angels? Not so real. Just like the unicorn and the pixies."

I opened the door forcefully and shoved it back so he had to step out of the way of its path. "Now, _leave_."

"Mr de Silva, will you kindly leave Susannah be for just one moment of her life?" Jim said looking at me. That confirmed it. This guy was two fingers short of a whisky on the rocks.

At least, that's what I thought until Jesse materialised right next to me. Jim cut his eyes at him. "Must you be such an insufferable pain in the ass?"

Jesse visibly bristled. "Susannah asked you to leave. It would be wise to do so."

"Or what?" Jim asked, bored. "You'll get her to beat me up for you? Or you'll challenge me to a duel?"

I think Jesse was as stumped as I was. "You...you can actually see him?"

"See him. Touch him. _Hear_ him, unfortunately. Suze," he turned to me, "I am your guardian angel. I know it sounds cheesy and corny and all that crap. But it's true." When I didn't say anything, he spread his arms. "Ta da!"

Eventually, Jesse spoke. "I believe him, _querida_."

"No one was asking you, Zorro. And quit with all the lovey-dovey '_querida_' crap. It feels like you're making out with my sister right in front of me." He gave a shudder.

"I'm not really your sister, though. Right?"

"God know. Thank God. I've seen the way you treat your ones."

"_Step_brothers. And I'm nice to Doc – David. I meant to say David."

Jim raised an amused eyebrow. "I was implying that it felt like you were my sister because I've been looking after you for the whole of your life. And you've been driving me crazy each and every one of those years just like a baby sister does."

I scowled at him.

"So what was the point in you visiting me and revealing your true identity?"

At once, Jim sobered. "Exactly what I said before. I think it would be wise for you to visit Father Dominic." He turned to Jesse. "And I think it would be wise for _you_ to stay out of Suze's way."

Jesse immediately went on the defensive. "And why should I do that? I love her; I'm not going planning on leaving her any time soon."

Jim glowered and said, "I know that. But if you don't stop pestering her and making her life difficult right when she needs your help most of all..." he leaned in close, "you will see just how an angel can turn into the devil in a matter of seconds." Adopting his normal volume of voice, Jim smiled at me. "If you ever need me, sing a little song."

"Sing a little song?" I repeated in horror. He had obviously never heard me in the shower.

"Hum a tinkling tune?"

"Guess again, bud."

"You spoil all my fun. Just call out m name. Although, you may have to call it a few times, or wait a while for my appearance. I've got a lot of lady angel chasing to do."

With a charming – whatever – wink, he disappeared with a pop.

I'm not even joking. One second he was standing there arrogantly, the next he had vanished with a noise that I can make by sucking a Malteser into my mouth.

It was kinda cool. And reminded me of something from Star Trek.

I was congratulating myself on just how well I was taking all this guardian angel crap, when my legs buckled beneath me. Jesse was reaching out to catch me when something warm and bright swept under me and I was standing again. Although, it did feel suspiciously like something was holding me up. I shot a questioning glance at Jesse, but he was just staring at me bemusedly.

"Can't leave you for a second, can I?" Said a delighted voice.

"You'll save me from getting carpet burns, but you won't help me from getting attacked by four teenage ghosts in Prom dresses? Or from getting kidnapped by madmen with guns? Or from getting..."

"Yeah, yeah. I told you, some things I just can't do." Jim handed me over to Jesse rather inelegantly.

"How did you know I was gonna collapse anyway? You didn't even give me the chance to sigh dramatically, flutter my eyelashes, and bring a hand to my forehead." Good thing real-life isn't portrayed in movies. It would be dead disappointing.

"Happens all the time to chicks whenever their angels reveal themselves."

"Chicks?" I said, highly affronted.

Jim sighed dramatically. "I admit it, some guys do too."

"Well that's all right then," I huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, another charismatic wink, and a _pop_ that made me want to giggle like a three year old, Jim disappeared. I relaxed against Jesse.

"_Ripley's Believe It Or Not_ could run forever with just the things that go on in my life."


	15. Dents In The Dishes

**A/N:** Yoyo, my fairly lovely chickens. Been fairly busy what with my virus and catching up on schoolwork as well as normal schoolwork (who invented GCSEs anyway?). But, after much whining (I'm joking. There was only a little bit of whining. Okay. There was a lot. ;) ) I managed to give birth to this 7lb baby. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't tidy, but someone had to do it.

Shame there wasn't any of the procreation pre-stages, if ya know what I mean. ;-P Sorry. My hormones have been playing up recently.

**xxreixx:** HAHAHA. Nutjob. I wish _I_ could disappear in a poof of sparkles and smoke. Bit bad for those asthmatics around me. But at least they'd get a darn good show before they started...having...breathing difficulties...ah hem. Maybe I _wouldn't_ make a good doctor... I lub Star Wars. That's no moon, that's a space station!

Gets me every time...

**Oenone:** Hehe, I know it was a bit of an odd chappie. I never intended to have a Guardian Angel. I usually hate stories with that kinda thing added in. But I was in a funny mood... Blame it on the hormones, people. Blame it on the hormones.

**Alenor:** You're an Aussie! Cool. The sandwich was a bit...loaded. Don't really know where it came from. I could just picture it. Scary... Jim doesn't really like Jesse because Jimmyboy thinks that Jesse is bad for Suze. She always seems to get hurt/into trouble because of him, ya know? So I thought I'd put Jim in as a sort of...surrogate big, over-protective brother. Cos it's not like Suze's step-brothers can be over-protective of her when it comes to her moonlighting. Guardian angels are just...angels, really. They're people who died, but who can come back on earth and inplant themselves and their pseudo-lives into people's minds to make it appear as if they are real. For example, if Jim appeared to Suze, and Suze started researching Jim on the net or something, a load of information would appear on him such as college pictures, or family trees, etc. When really, Jim would not be real. He would just make that info appear to those who search for it. Part of his disguise... If you understood any of that, I doff my cap at you. doff doff. So basically G.As can be any age, any gender. They usually don't appear in human form to help their charges unless it's absolument vital. Mostly they just...mentally guide the subconscious. Sorta. Hmm...

**Mystique Angelique:** Hahahaha, Jesse, sweet? Yeah he is, isn't he? Bless his cutie-wutie face. -_slowly pulls self together and walks off._ _Then begins to run as a remote control car chases her. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!-_

**tt:** It's hard making people funny! I'm pretty good at the witty banter when I'm physically bantering with people...but when I'm writing a witty banter? It's like all those wittisms just drain away... So I'll stick to big sandwiches.

**UnangelicHalo:** Nifty. I lub that. Nifty. Hehehehe. Nif-ty. Nift-y. Ni-fty. Semantic satiation shall not claim THIS word from me! Moowahhahaaaa!!! -_runs off clutching 'nifty'between her hands, glancing in every direction. Trips over on remote control car-_

**Anna:** ANNA!!! My saviour. My Messiah. Grow a beard, and you could be my Jesus. Would you stop putting '(S, you moron)' at the end of your review?? I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!! And stop with the 'morons'. It's like the stupid dwarf; it's not big, and it's not clever.

**DancinSweethart:** Zorro is muy coolio. I like his cape. I have one just like it.

**dreamingducky:** I kept on writing...

**moovalous3:** Hahaha. It's so funny. Some of you lub Jim, some of you lub Jesse, some of you want to burn Jesse at a stake, some of you want Spike to run away and marry the dog from Frasier and have freakish mutant Frasike kit-pup babies.

**Naomi:** I have never simpered or made daisy chains, but I do kick box. That constitutes me as an anti-cutie pie. SO WHAT AM I???? A moo-cow. So simple we never saw it coming.

**Azure Autumn:** Hehehe, reactions are coming up soon... just not in this chappie. HAHAHA.

**Squintz009:** Aaaaaw. Have a pygmy monkey. -_throws pygmy monkey- _I'm glad tu aime mon story!

**Nice Hayley:** I had that same problem! I didn't get any Author Alerts! I almost died. Then I suddenly got 98 in one day and my computer exploded and the table caught on fire and the curtains caught on fire and then the house burned down and some robbers came and robbed us and me and my mummy had to sell our...hot chocolate to build a new house and now we have a big new house and a shiny new computer and we all lived happily ever after the end. :)

**RayHaisa:** You said 'I have one gripe' and in Spanish 'gripe' means flu. DOES THAT NOT SEEM ODD? Jim was different than he was lsat time. Mainly because he wasn't saving Suze's butt from a vicious ghost so he didn't hafta worry about getting into trouble if said pesky ghost decided to tail him and castrate him or do other unmentionable things to him or his charge. You could say he was a little more relaxed this time so he was more comfortable with being the real him - sarcastic, and whatever else. Paul-like, if you so think.

**SwEeT-sHoRtEy:** GLAD YOU LUBBED IT!!! Hahaha. Aw. You make me smile. Got my friend to beta it, so hopefully not so many spelling/grammar mistakes (sorrrrrrryyyyyyy! lol)

**AmethystHannah:** Merci beaucoup! Hehehe. I have too many ideas. Like jumping off buildings and wandering round in a pair of jeans....with boxers over the top. Those kind of ideas get me into trouble... Lucky I have my super powers, eh? ;)

**Ta much to all those STILL reviewing "Where is Jesse's VPL?" - glad you're still enjoying it! Hehehe. We're all so immature and cruuuuude. The way God wanted us. Or not.**

**Hope vous aimez the following piece of writing:**

Boo.

The end.

**Just kidding. :)**

* * *

I was still leaning against Jesse when I remembered something. 

"Hey! I'm still annoyed with you, _mister_!" I leapt up from my admittedly comfy position and thrust my finger at his chest.

"About that, Susannah..." He took a deep breath and looked at me. As in, really looked at me. Like he was weighing up how to tell me whatever he wanted to tell me. It looked like it was causing him pain. "I'm sorry."

Both my eyebrows shot up to meet my hairline. There was silence. Was that it? It seemed all Jesse seemed to do was love me then leave me then love me then leave me. It was not only hurtful, but a little tiresome, too. How was I supposed to concentrate during school with Jesse plucking at the ropes of my mind? Speaking of school...

"I have homework." I turned on my heel, and strode up the stairs. Of course, when I actually got into my room, Jesse was there and waiting. Darn his ghostly powers. He didn't look too impressed. He was tapping his jingling-spurred boot, arms folded eloquently over his chest, and an unamused-but-secretly-I-am-amused-I-just-want-to-look-mad-so-as-to-intimidate-you eyebrow quirked. I breezed past him to my book bag and began riffling - a tad unnecessarily seeing as I had already done all my homework - through it.

"Susannah," he crooned into my ear after bending down behind me. I tilted my ear away so I was now searching through my book bag...without actually looking at what I was searching through. "_Querida..._"

"No." I said. Rather simple, no? Well, obviously not for Jesse.

"Susannah," he said. I gritted my teeth. I had never realised how infuriating he was. Emphatic, really.

Actually, that was a lie. I had realised how infuriating he was the day I met him. And look how that turned out! I ended up falling in love with him.

"_What_, Jesse? I'm very busy, you know. I'm a very busy lady."

"No you're not, you're just trying to think up excuses to ignore me," he said calmly.

I spluttered attractively. Then I stood up. Jesse stood with me, his dark, dark eyes never leaving me, they were like leaden weights on me.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

I stared at Jesse. Why was he acting as childishly as I was? He was meant to be the mature one. And was he _smirking?_ "Am not."

"Are too."

Okay, he _was_ smirking. The ! "Am not." I said obstinately.

"Susannah," Jesse said.

"Hey! You broke the chain."

"Susannah, I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, you're right. We do." I took a deep breath, "You're a jerk." I folded my arms and waited for Jesse to talk. "You go," I said, motioning for him to continue.

"The only time I've heard you say use this term 'jerk', was when you were angry at Brad..."

"Oh?" I said, feigning innocence.

Jesse gave a sigh. Although what he had to be exasperated about, I don't know. I mean, _he's_ the infuriating one. Right? "I can understand you're angry at me, _querida_," Lord I wish he wouldn't use that word. "But I need you to understand; I was upset and angry. I am so sorry, _querida_, if I hurt you."

"You should be. Because you did. Hurt me, I mean. I'm going through a _real_ tough time and I do _not_ need you to be on back 24/7, okay? I'm trying to do the right thing and you're just nagging at me!" I felt like I was on a roll, I was even pacing. And I wasn't going to stop for _anything_. Unless someone who couldn't see the dead walked in on me. Then I'd stop. I don't want to seem _entirely_ nutso. "Well I'm sick of it! Okay? You should be _nice_ to me. You love me? Then _show_ me. Don't just worry and don't just get angry with me. I never yell at you when you do stupid things!"

We both raised our eyebrows at that. Me because Jesse never did anything stupid, and Jesse because, well... he never does anything stupid.

I shook my head. Stupid, stupid me.

"_Querida_. If ever I do a stupid thing, I give you permission to get angry at me."

Were his lips twitching?

"And I hereby allow you to worry about me."

They were definitely twitching. The cheeky...!

"If you're not going to take me seriously; then fine. I've warned you, Jesse. I don't have to put up with this _or_ you anymore," I said. To be honest, I was being entirely truthful. I would never have _dumped_ Jesse, but if he wanted to think that I would dump him, then fine. God obviously willed it, and who was I to argue with God? Except the girl He made do his dirty work. God is obviously not a democratic...thing. Being. God is a being. Not a thing.

No wonder God's punishing me.

I turned slowly to walk toward the door. Jesse caught my arm. "Susannah," he said dolefully. "I know...I know I haven't always seemed to most reliable of persons, but you must know I care for you, and I love you." His eyes were so sincere I felt guilt bowl me over in the stomach like a loose cannonball.

"Jesse, I didn't mean-"

"And I know, _querida_, that someone like..." he swallowed as if it hurt him to say this, "Paul could offer you so much more, but I love you, Susannah." He said in almost a plea, "I love you, Susannah."

And right then was when I melted. Seriously, if it was physical possible, I would have melted. Into a big puddle of Jesse-loves-Susannah goo.

"Oh, Jesse. I love you too. And I would never leave you." He smiled as if I'd just told him hoop skirts and bonnets were back in fashion. "It's just that sometimes you piss me off, is all."

Now, I said that with a smile on my face, but by the way Jesse's own face sort of...fell, well. You'd think I'd growled it at him. Some people are just so touchy.

"I'm sorry, _querida_, if I...piss you off."

"That's okay," I said graciously. I even bowed my head slightly. I would make a great First Lady.

Jesse took a step forward and stopped. He looked pensive as he took another half step toward me. _Now was no time for dancing, Jesse_, I thought. His arms lifted halfway up, then dropped back to his sides. "Jesse," I said. "What the heck are you doing?"

And then he rushed me.

Seriously.

I was _rushed_ by _Jesse_.

I didn't even have time to get my hands scrunched into fists before he had tackled me onto the bed.

"Jesse!" I screamed. I was about to yell even more when his lips fell on mine. It was a bruising, desperate kiss and I almost didn't respond. But I had to. I mean, come on. This was Jesse. _No one_ can resist Jesse. A fact I was obscenely proud of, at the same time as being immensely wary and jealous of.

He ripped his lips from me and rested his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry, _querida_," he said, although he didn't sound very sorry.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. Even though it was kind of hard, what with all the air in my lungs having disappeared.

For the first time in quite a while, Jesse grinned. A big, wolfish grin that made my heart stutter and warm tingling feelings to whoosh down my body.

He shrugged. "Because I felt like it." I felt my eyebrow rise. Jesse never did what he felt like doing. Unless what he felt like doing was running away from me. "And I wanted to show you how sorry I was."

"So you thought you'd kill me with a kiss?" Was it so wrong that my eyes kept on drifting to those delectable lips? Or that I could feel myself involuntarily leaning towards said parts of his anatomy?

And then we were kissing again. Making up _is_ the best bit of a fight. I could totally get used to it.

Goodness knows how long we were like that. Kissing, I mean. But you know in movies and books, when the world seems to fizzle away from the hero and heroine making out in the middle of the street (who _does_ that, anyway? Talk about inappropriate PDA)? It was honestly like that. Both of our concentration was on kissing. And other stuff. You know how it is...

So it only seemed like a few minutes had passed when Andy called up the stairs that it was time for dinner, and my stomach was obviously pleased as it gave out a loud rumble of appreciation.

Great. Way to kill the romance. I looked down at it and felt my face heat up as Jesse chuckled. Just because he was physically incapable of stomach rumbling didn't mean he could mock those who could.

His large, tan hand drifted down to my stomach and traced patterns lightly on the bare skin (what? We had gotten a little excited and my shirt had somehow...slid up), I sucked in a sharp breath (not to mention my stomach muscles) and felt a big goofy grin unzip itself across my face.

"Dinner time," Jesse whispered in a very feral manner. I nodded numbly and pried my eyes open (when had they closed themselves?). I figured Jesse's face was a mirror of mine, judging by his hugely dilated pupils, passion-induced weight to his eyelids, and unyielding, very male, very satisfied grin.

_Oh yeah,_ I thought. _I could definitely get used to the making up._

I was indolently washing the dishes after dinner, humming God-knows-what tune, with my eyes half-closed and that grin still on my face when an ice cold wind trailed across my back.

I whipped round, hands sudsy and current half-cleansed dish held out ever so slightly, as if it were a shield.

I waited a few moments in silence then turned back to the dishes, all the while keeping an ear turned subtly toward my back.

If that is even possible.

When another ice trail found its way up my bare arm, I whirled round and growled. "Alright. Whoever that is, show your face now or I will get angry."

Nothing happened, but I got the distinct feeling that whatever was there was laughing at me. Don't ask me how. There was just a subtle shift in the air...Like suddenly it was lighter with tiny electric bubbles fizzing about in it.

Odd, huh?

"Jesse...?" I eyed the seemingly empty kitchen with a practised eye. "Okay, not Jesse," I muttered as something tugged at the hem of my pant trousers. Jesse would never do something like that.

"Look, whoever's there, just come out and behave like an adult." Unless... "Unless you're not an adult and you are, in fact, Bethany...?"

When nothing happened, something cold trickled down my spine. Some feeling of pure dread that froze all my nerve endings. "Stiff?" I ventured in a sickeningly timid voice. "Stiff?" All the while in my head I was wishing fervently that it was Jim playing a stupid Guardian Angel trick.

"Peekaboo."

I admit it. I screamed. Not so much screamed as... okay, I screamed. Screamed and dropped the plate I was holding. It fell solidly toward the floor – then stopped. Mid-twirl, mid-fall, it stopped.

And, as if being slowly flooded with colour, a hand appeared. Then an arm, then a shoulder...then Paul's head.

Paul's head, Paul's body, Paul's smug, self-satisfied smirk. He rose from his crouching position slowly and handed my me plate smoothly and arrogantly. "You oughtta be careful, Suze. Not sure Andy would be too pleased if you randomly smashed one of his good plates."

"He would when I told him my very good reason."

"Which is what? That a big bad ghost spooked you?"

"No. That a big jerk Paul needed some sense knocking into him and the nearest object for that was this plate," I retorted through gritted teeth. "He'd understand _perfectly_ then."

Paul gulped discreetly, though whether it was from seeing the anger flash in my eyes or the way I could barely control my shaking hand I didn't know. But what I did know was that the hand clutching the dish (knuckles long since paled to a deathly white) was just _twitching_ to reach out and club Paul round the head. I had to consciously restrain it.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I made an apathetic noise from the back of my throat and turned back to my dishes. The water was getting cold. As I considered my position with Paul and his life (or lack thereof), I noticed there was a dent in the frying pan I was scrubbing.

"Guess what I found out today," I said, viciously rubbing at a particularly stubborn food remains on the frying pan.

"Hmm? What did you find out?" Paul was juggling – without the use of any limbs – various pieces of fruit.

"I have a Guardian Angel," I said.

"Pull the other one, it's got Santa on," Paul replied dryly without missing a beat.

"No seriously. His name's Jim. He's the one who rescued me from Stiff. Turns out he's my Guardian Angel, only most of the time he's not allowed to do much guarding, more watching."

Paul turned to me but the fruit carried on its lazy looping through the air. "You're serious," he said blandly.

"Mm-hmm. And he told me to go talk to Father Dom about our predicament."

"My predicament," Paul muttered. "But that sounds like an idea, I guess."

"Yep. Maybe Father Dom could give up his life for you?"

The fruit bashed forcefully into each other as Paul's eyes went wide. "Father Dom?" He choked. "He's practically dead already!"

"_Paul!_ Don't be so crude. Father Dom's surprisingly fitful, for someone of his age."

"I knew there was a reason he kept all-female nuns around him..."

"Paul. We'll go see Father D tomorrow after school. Or during. Whatever."

"Sure, sure," he shrugged indifferently. "But I should warn you."

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Turns out there's a time limit to this thing," he said ambiguously.

"What _thing_?" There was a teeny squeak in my voice as my body began to fill with an oh-so-familiar feeling of panic and doom.

"My..._predicament_. Yeah, seems I only have two more days until I'm stuck like this. I only have a week in total. Five days have already passed."

"Two days?" Oh yeah, definite squeakage there.

Paul nodded. "Forty-eight hours. Ain't that a kick in the teeth, huh?" The fruit resumed their juggling although Paul kept his eyes stuck firmly on me.

I turned back to the frying pan in my hand.

Huh. There was another dent in it.

"Suze?"

"Mm-hmm?" I pursed my lips and fixed my eyes resolutely on the ever-cooling bowl of utensils. The bubbles were slowly diminishing. The number of dishes steadily deteriorating. The number of wrinkles on my hands gradually increasing. And still I washed.

Paul stood there silently, watching me as I watched nothing, blinking my eyes at the blank canvas in front of me while all the while my mind was anything but. It was racing with thoughts of me, thoughts of Paul, thoughts of everything.

Heck, even a few thoughts of my long-lost dad.

It was no wonder I didn't notice when the number of items in the bowl had waned until there was nothing but dirty, relentlessly cold water left.

And still I stared at it.

Gently, Paul leaned over and plucked the wash-cloth from my hands. Softly, Paul lifted my hands out of the water, and pulled me over to one of the kitchen chairs. Delicately, Paul tugged me down onto his lap as he seated himself. Deftly, Paul patted, rubbed, dried, warmed my pruney hands.

And numbly, I stared.

Surreal didn't even begin to cover it.

Paul often reminded me of a modern-day Jekyll-and-Hyde. It was no wonder I was confused out of my skull when it came to my feelings on this International Man of Mystery.

As the warmth from Paul's thighs penetrated my own, relaxing somewhat my tense and suddenly ice-cold limbs, I lethargically let my gaze wander around the neat kitchen. On the wall was a shelf that contained a variety of cookbooks (from Mexican to Scottish to Chinese). There was a particularly large, black one on the end that Andy's own mother had given to him.

I stared at it thoughtfully.

I was pretty sure I had seen a book like that somewhere else...

"Father Dom's office!"

Paul jerked as my overly-loud voice pierced the heavy, sacred silence that had befallen us. "What about it?"

"There's a big black book in there."

"There are plenty of big black books in his office. He's a priest. He reads bibles."

I shot Paul an exasperated look. "I _know_ that. But...I dunno. I've just got this feeling about it, that's all. Like when I first met you, I had a real bad feeling about you, and that turned out to be completely right, didn't it? Call it woman's instinct."

"Suze, I thought we'd gotten past that whole –"

"Shh, I'm trying to think." I sat for a while, quite comfortable, on Paul's lap, nibbling delicately on my nail. "Tonight. We'll do it tonight." I said quietly. A slightly impatient movement of Paul's legs alerted me to something. "Is this painful for you? I mean, I know I'm not the lightest of people. But are you comfortable?"

Paul grunted. "I'm trying not to think of anything below my waist at the moment. But to answer your question: I'm so comfortable it's painful." He said in a strained voice.

"'You're so comfortable it's painful'? How does that work?"

"I could show you firsthand how it works, if you want. Learn a bit of Biology while we're at it."

The full meaning of his statements – and terse voice – alerted me to just what exactly he was implying.

I leapt off his lap like the damsel I am.

Paul turned his body away from me subtly on the chair and took a few deep breaths, hands braced on his thighs.

I gave a small cough. "Um. Meet me tonight... at...at...oh, at the Mission. Meet me tonight at the Mission at about...um, midnight. Yeah." I was looking everywhere but Paul, lest my gaze should involuntarily drop...

Paul nodded brusquely and shimmered out of view.

I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. And promptly burst into hysterical fits of giggles.

Seriously. Giggles. I hadn't giggled since kindergarten when Gina blew a raspberry at the playground bully who then burst into fits of huge snorting tears. It was kind of sad, when I thought about it.

Not the whole raspberry thing. The fact I haven't giggled in twelve years.

"Suze?" A tentative voice called out. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm good." Suppressing an unfeminine snort, I began heading up the stairs to my room. I bumped into Brad in the hallway.

"Suze, when the hell is Slater getting back? He was supposed to set me up with some _hot_ chicks from Seattle with these _killer_ sets..."

He noticed my look of disdain and stopped. you just tell me when he's coming back?"

"Soon," I answered, "real soon." I hoped.

"Great. Cos I really need to get lai...ah. I gotta go...homework, you know..."

I glowered and turned elegantly into my room. Jesse was sat petting Spike on the window seat.

_Home sweet home_, I thought. He looked up when I entered and a big warm smile lit up his face. Even Spike looked up at me and managed not to roll his eyes when he looked away again.

Believe me, cats _can_ roll their eyes.

With gentle but uncompromising force, Jesse nudged Spike off his lap. Spike, a rather petulant animal, decided that if he couldn't have Jesse, then he didn't want to even look at Jesse, and he jumped onto the porch roof and into the dark night. He was way too proud for someone with who licks his bum.

I took up my place next to Jesse and smiled at him. "Have a nice chat with Paul?"

I pursed my lips to withhold the frustrated cry that was begging to come out. "Yes, yes I did," I said enigmatically.

Jesse gave me an inscrutable look and turned to gaze out of my window, his eyes as dark as the night outside.

"Learn anything new?" He asked flatly.

"Yes."

This time Jesse's face did emit some emotion. Annoyance, mainly. Well, I wasn't expecting love, but...

"And?" He asked somewhat aggravated. Was it a gift I had, that I could provoke this certain emotion at the drop of a hat in Jesse? I liked to think so. Unless it resulted in him storming out of the room like the drama queen he likes to be.

Then again, someone from his era had to make some sort of entertainment without Cable.

"And he only has two days left before he's a permanent fixture in the land of ghouls." I said on a breath.

Jesse straightened almost imperceptibly and cut me a look. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" I stared at my reflection in the window. I was getting a spot from all the stress. Guys are even worse for your complexion than working at MacDonald's.

"I know you don't particularly want Paul to die," he said with a deceitfully toneless voice.

"He's not going to _die_, Jesse! I'm going to figure out a way to prevent that from happening. Have a little faith. I've stopped mass murderers before, I can save Paul."

Okay, so maybe I sounded a little more confident than I felt. But Jesse's lack of confidence in me wasn't doing anything to boost my self-esteem.

"Of course, _querida_. And I do have faith in you." So why wasn't he looking at me when he said that? And why was his voice still so toneless? God, talk about unsupportive boyfriend. We seriously need a visit to Oprah.

Before long I started my act. After a couple of big yawns and over-exaggerated stretches, Jesse suggested I rest for the night. Finally. I had only been hinting for the past ten minutes.

I grumbled a bit (all the while cheering inside) and grudgingly (yeah, right) got ready for bed, and crawled in.

After a soft 'goodnight' from Jesse (not to mention a goodnight kiss), I turned off the lights and snuggled down deep. When his ethereal glow dwindled from my room – and I waited a few more minutes, just to be safe – I reached out and set my alarm. I figured I could get at least an hour's rest before I had to sneak out into the cold night.

The things I did to save innocent lives. Not that I'd call Paul innocent. Heck no. He's the antichrist of innocent.

It seemed only a few minutes later that my alarm was screeching at me. I punched it across the room and 'shh-ed' it. I even went so far as to put a finger to my lips.

I crept across my room and changed into my night time clothes, black, black, and more black. I packed my night time bag – weapons, weapons, and lip gloss (it came in handy whenever the cops got called). One advantage to being female. Any guy tried the lip gloss trick with the feds and he'd be banged up before he could say 'Soap bar'.

I opened the window, and climbed onto the porch roof. Leaping onto the ground (ouch, much?), I spared the dark house one last look before grabbing the bike (really need my license) I left behind the bush, and pedalling away into what could either be my death, Paul's death, or a happy ending.

And we all know I'm no Snow White.


	16. Scraps In The Schoolyard

**A/N:** Hiya! I will be posting TWO chappie tonight _-bows to rounds of applause-_ Thank you, thank you. I was stuck at my grandparents -_nods knowingly to boos from the crowd- _I know, I know. I almost committed grandpatricide. But I didn't. I remained strong! -_cheers erupt- _FOR YOU GUYS -_cheers escalate and roof blows off-_

Thank you. Thank you. And now....ON WITH THE SHOW!

**Metallicfire:** Go! Go on your Jesse rant! Be free, young lion. Prowl...rant...chomp...

**xxreixx:** I think I've made everyone hate Jesse... Ooooh, the POWER!

**UnangelicHalo:** Nifty is a nifty word...non? Lalala. Is this gonna be a J/S? Who knows...

**Naomi:** Jimmy has already come into it...Will he appear again? Nobody knows. No, seriously. Nobody knows. Ask anyone. They don't know. Ask me: I don't know.

**SweetestReject:** HAHAHA. "PAUL GOT A HARD ON!!! Only you could pull that off eloquently." EXCUTH ME??? Pull _what_ off??? Lol. Very graphic images in my mind...

**tt:** You want a happy ending? OH MY GOD. Bless.

**Nice Hayley:** Aw, man! Sucks about still not getting alerts -_hands over £50 to head of Fanfic alerts. "Good job, head of Fanfic Alerts Man." "No problem, Del." _heh heh heh-

**Oenone:** Hahaha, deary me. What do you get up to? Getting poor unsuspecting boys horny. Tsk tsk. Back in my day, if a boy even _looked_ at a girl he would be carted off and made to marry her! None of this faffing and flaunting! I tell you, if I were President of the world there'd be changes...mark my word; there'd be changes...

**KristannaSpirex:** Yeah, I did wonder about inventing a Guardian Angel being a bit too...you know. But I did it anyway. I didn't intend to in the beginning, but it kinda happened. Plus it means I can incorporate him into other stories I may give birth to. Cos, I tell ya, it's getting hard to find snap solutions to Suze's troubles! All these people who turn up at _just the right moment_? I hate when that happens. It always seems way too...unbelievable. So I thought if I invent one main fixture to be there with the sole purpose of bailing Suze outta difficult jams, then I wouldn't need to invent _lots_ of _convenient_ characters, if you understand? I don't. Lol. Plus he makes the story a wee bit more interesting. Moowahahaa.

**Pens in potatoes:** Hehehehe, merci beaucoup, espesh for the points on the Jesse/Suze make out. I think it's just as fun writing those sessions as it is reading them. Which may sound dodgy, but who cares?

**Anna:** Oh my God, you are way harsh. :) Hehehe. You say potato, I say potahto. You say moron, I say oh-my-God-you-are-way-harsh. God created us as equals. But me more equal.

**moovalous3:** Lol, the dents were meant to be metaphors for Suze's life. Sorry for the confuzzlation.

**SwEeT-sHoRtEy: **Omigod, I had EXACTLY the same problem when I began writing! I was like, "What does A/N mean?" "What does AU mean?" "What does OC mean?" **A/N** means **Author's Note. **In answer to you "Why did the pan have dents in it?" Look above at **moovalous3**'s acknowledgement.

**Sandra Rose:** Hahahaha, so many inklings you have... All will be revealed.... Unless I forget. In which case, uh-oh.

**DancinSweethart:** Oh man. I feel so guilty about dragging this all out. Making you wait for the solution. And yet...the little red devil on my shoulder poking his pitchfork into my flesh is making me feel...almost...evil. Mowahaahahahaa.... Or maybe it's just me?

**x0SweEtkIssEzxO:** Aw, you broke your finger and STILL reviewed. I bless you. I bless you.

**Athena884:** You come from Seattle?? HOW COOL!!! You must describe it to moi!

**On with the main feature...**

* * *

The ride to the Mission was pretty quiet and serene, considering the doom that lay at the end of my journey.

Or what sure felt like doom, anyway. Call it Mediator's Intuition.

I rode with the wind whipping my hair in a very Baywatch way, for that all important wind-swept look. I wanted to look good for my death. Can you blame me, when I had one heck of a hotté waiting for me in the afterlife?

Don't get the wrong idea. I don't _want_ to die. I'd much rather live a meaningful and fulfilling life. But I wouldn't be too shocked if I were to suddenly, I don't know, drop dead in the middle of the Mission Academy or graveyard or wherever the heck else.

Then again, I wouldn't be too shocked by a lot of things. I'm a mediator and I come from New York - I've practically seen the world. From cops eating salads to women in hoop skirts threatening my life. Trust me; the only thing that would shock me now would be a normal life.

And I wasn't expecting that any time soon.

I rolled the bike to the large iron gates and hopped off as elegantly as a girl on a guy's bike can. What _is_ the point in that crossbar? Surely that's gotta be even more painful for the guy? Whatever. I slipped under the gates (had my bum gotten _bigger_?) and ambled calmly up to Father Dom's office window.

I knew which one it was thanks to my first day at the Mission, when I'd first gone there and had immediately liked the view out onto the car park.

I tapped the window gently – checking subtly for any alarms or guards – yeah, right – and softly called out Paul's name.

"Paul. Paul." After no response, I tried whistling like I did with Max. "Come here, boy. Come on. There's a good boy." I patted my thighs for good measure. "Suze's got a nice big bone-y..."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" Said an amused voice from my left. I turned round and found Paul smirking at me through Father D's window.

"Don't flatter yourself, you leave a lot to be desired in your Biology lessons, as I recall." And I did recall. It still made me blush when I remembered just how coarse and terse Paul's voice had been as I'd inadvertently wriggled and...applied pressure in his 'sensitive area'.

Paul rolled his eyes wandered away from the window.

"Where are you going?" I hissed, cupping my hands round my face as I leaned into the window. Faintly I could make out Paul's outline as he riffled through Father D's personal drawers and I felt a twinge of...what? Guilt?

"Paul, for God's sake. We're going to hell as it is, can we at least try to keep the sentence to a minimum by _not_ poking our noses in where they _really, really_ don't belong? Just find the damn book, okay?" I was feeling antsy and touchy. Father Dom was a friend.

An old, nice friend. With high connections.

Connections with God.

I learnt from the Godfather that you don't annoy a person with connections with the Man upstairs.

I heard Paul mumble something, but through the glass it was lost on me. I had a feeling it was better that way, for Paul's sake.

There was a faint rustling sound, and I pivoted to face the world behind my back.

And almost lost all control of my bladder functions.

"Nice night fer a stroll, ain' it, swee'heart?" Stiff growled in what I faintly recollected as his 'friendly' voice.

The dark, masochistic glint in his shark-eyes said otherwise. In fact, they said loud and clear to me, "Run little girl, or die."

I'm no dumb broad, I ran.

Or rather, I tried to run. After taking one large, cartoon-like stride, a porky fist grabbed the back of my collar, and yanked me unceremoniously off my feet, back through the air a few yards, and onto the cold, rough ground. Hard.

I had a half, fairly hysterical hope that all my black clothes would just blend me into the very forbidding ground.

That maybe I'd just sort of...blend into the background and melt away from his memory.

I must have hit my head harder than I thought. "Ow," I moaned and struggled to push myself up, my butt aching portentously. Stiff leered and his spectral light fell on me as he pitched forward over me, hovering like a slobbering pit-bull. Somehow, that ethereal glow seemed to adapt to the personality of its..._glowee_.

On Jesse, the glow was the kind you see portrayed on angels in stain glass windows. On Paul, the glow was... well, it was wary; kind of warm, kind of cold; kind of bright, kind of numb.

Stiff's glow was like that of a white, winter sunbeam, streaming in through a crack in a shuttered window of an abandoned hunting hut in the middle of a creaky forest. And as it lit me up, sprawled inelegantly and painfully on the asphalt, I had the overwhelming urge to stuff a sock into that shutter crack and snuff out that light.

"At least you know where you belong, girly. On your back, underneath me in the subservient position," he lewdly crowed. I placed my hands either side of my head, lashed out my right leg across my body – thereby clipping Stiff on the side of the head and knocking him away – then I threw my legs, and sprang to a standing position.

I was like Jackie Chan, but better looking and with more flip-worthy hair.

"I prefer to go on top, _actually_," I growled as I round-housed Stiff again in the head. Of course, in my inebriated state and my moment of 'feeling the Force' (Star Wars much?) I had momentarily forgotten how quickly ghosts bump back.

Literally. Stiff was thrown against the building wall, only to use the recoil force (go Newton's third) to lead his own assault on me.

Not nice, really.

I had just dodged one of Stiff's ham-fists when two strong arms wrapped themselves around me and threw me very much off-kilter.

A deep, commanding voice rumbled in my ear, "Run."

I fell a couple of feet forward when those arms released me then turned around.

Paul was now dodging a nasty looking left jab and using his defense stance to get in a powerful kidney-hook. As Stiff doubled over and Paul cut a clean punch to Stiff's eye socket, I resisted a cheer. Stiff was lucky Paul drew back, otherwise he'd be a goner, I couldn't help noting with relish.

Although I think Paul did it for his own self-preservation; if he'd followed through his knuckles would have been on the other side of his hand.

I stood there until Stiff suddenly got the upper hand. He'd grabbed Paul's incoming fist and had twisted it sharply, resulting in a few cusses from Paul that turned my ears to cinders. Stiff was just about to land what I knew would be a knock-out (literally) punch, when my legs burst into action.

Seriously, that is how I would describe it. One moment I was standing there with my mouth agape wondering what cover-up I could lend Paul for the bruiser that would color his face, the next; my legs were pumping madly and my upper body was twisted round as my fist drew itself back. And then I was there. Throwing my entire weight into my fist and watching it collide with a sickening crack and sharp snap up my arm into Stiff's already-fixed-thanks-to-his-ghost-powers right cheek.

He span round and dropped like a Red Oak. And then he just lay there, eyes closed and swiftly swelling, nose gushing blood out like it was Niagra Falls, and a loose tooth cupped between the corner of his top and bottom lip while the rest of his mouth hung open, and slightly askew.

It was actually a rather beautiful sight. "Still got it," I congratulated myself as I blew on my knuckles.

Paul's arm suddenly snaked into view and before I could even grunt in protest, he had grabbed my wrist – albeit with startling tenderness – and was inspecting it clinically.

"Damn, Suze. That's gonna hurt in the morning." Actually, it was hurting now. He brushed his thumb over my knuckles, tickling them with the barest contact. "You alright?"

I was high. That was happens when I get into fights. I get this _huge_ adrenaline rush and _bam_. Suze is high on power. I could feel the jittery sensations sparking from my toes – making them twitch and curl in my sneakers – to my knees. And the tips of my fingers were starting to get tingly too.

"I'm good. You?" I heard a snap and saw Paul wince. He glanced down at his index finger.

"I am now." I gave him a questioning look and he flexed his finger at me. "Broke it when Stiff grabbed my fist."

Ah. And his very own ghost powers had fixed that. Now that I'd noticed, I could see the swelling around his lip dying down.

"You make such charming acquaintances, Suze. What do you do, go to a weekly book club with VIP guests of pure, indomitable evil?"

I gave him my PMS look and he shut up. "Thank you," I grumbled reluctantly.

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh? What for?"

I waved my hand in a vague gesture. "You know," I said.

"I do?" He cocked his head to the side, a picture of pure innocence. Yeah, and Britney Spears is the new Virgin Mary.

Man, Paul was a pain in the ass. My teeth were involuntarily grinding. "For the whole white-knight-on-a-fiery-steed stunt you just pulled," I admitted. "Although not very effectively, considering I ended up saving that cute butt of yours."

Paul's face split into a wide grin and I knew I had said something wrong. "You think my butt is cute?"

_Yes._ "No." I turned round and stalked off to Father Dom's office window, peering inside. "You get the book?"

"I got distracted pulling my 'white-knight stunt'," he said with a shrug then added, "milady," with an over-exaggerated bow.

With a scowl, I said, "Well go get it, then." Suddenly I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. I glanced over to Stiff and gave a start when I realised he wasn't even there. Okay, I wasn't too worried. Good ol' Stiff wouldn't be coming back here any time soon. Although he would be back, Terminator-style and everything.

Paul bowed another dumb bow and dematerialised. I saw a glow emanate from Father D's office and then Paul's soft glow as he continued his thorough examination of the room.

Too thorough. Seriously, all he was looking for was a big black book. _Big_, black book. I doubt it was going to be stored into Father D's mediocre-sized desk drawers.

Paul suddenly straightened and turned to the window with a grin. He whisked his hand back and forth and I saw what he was clutching.

A bottle of Jack Daniel's.

From Father Dom's desk drawer. The one with the lock on it. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face.

I honestly couldn't blame Father D for his choice in...relaxation method.

It took Paul five more minutes until he disappeared from view. All I could see where the shadows created by his moving glow.

And then the shadows were gone, and Paul was materialising next to me, looking like the cat that got the canary. Under his arm was a big black book. Dusty, with gold plated leaves and a title-less front cover.

"Where'd you find it?" I asked, eyeing the book. Were those spider legs, squished onto the cover?

"Top of the book shelf, behind all the books."

"Huh," I said. "Why would Father D keep it _behind_ all his books?"

Paul gave me a dumbass look. "Well, if it's the book you think it is, I'm pretty sure our Padre didn't want just anyone browsing the pages. People would take one look and cart him off to the Nut House."

I cast a scowl at Paul for ruining my Nancy Drew moment. I wanted to treat this whole ordeal as one clandestine mystery, where good always conquers evil and Nancy always makes it home in time for dinner.

"So...where do we go now?" He asked. We couldn't go to my house, for obvious reasons. I didn't particularly want to go to Paul's house... But I had a feeling I had no choice.

"Your house?" I asked with a lot more nonchalance that I was actually feeling.

Paul gave an ironic smile. "And how, exactly, would we get there?"

Did Paul enjoy putting my bright ideas down that much? _At least_, I thought_, he's decided to get his cheap thrills by some other means than sexually harassing me_. "Well where do you propose, oh wise one?" I snapped. It was actually kind of cold out and my fingers were literally itching to grab that book and reveal all its secrets... or the story of Huckleberry Finn, depending on what book we had actually grabbed.

But weirdly, I didn't want to open it now. I didn't want to read it here, somewhere so...plain and secular. Which is just stupid, seeing as we were stood right outside a Catholic school with it's chapel near us. True, though, I have heard parking lots aren't the most spiritual of places.

Paul looked off into the distance as he thought. He looked good thinking, I decided. Then quickly berated myself. No was not the time for dilly-dallying on cute butts and faces.

He snapped his eyes back to me and I hastily looked away, raising my eyebrows up and peering round as if there was something very interesting creeping around us. "How about we go inside."

"What do you think I've been saying we should do? Go to your house but just sit down on the doorstep? Or camp out in the driveway?" I gave an exasperated groan and brushed a stray bang off my forehead.

Paul's smile grew tight. "I meant inside the school," he said, and strode off in that direction.

"'_I meant inside the school_,'" I mimicked. "Then why didn't you say _inside the school_ in the first place?" My grumblings carried on as I followed Paul around the Mission building, all the while picturing stabbing my nail file viciously and with malicious delight into his broad upper back, all the way down to the lower half where his hips narrowed.

I smiled faintly at the image of my nail file puncturing what I knew would be smooth, supple, resilient skin where his spine dipped at the base.

"Stop it," Paul said.

I started and looked up in perplexity. "Stop what?"

Paul's frown increased. "Stop staring at my back like that. You're creeping me out."

"I wasn't staring at your back," I quickly defended myself.

"I could _feel_ your eyes burning into my flesh. I don't know what you were thinking, but I sure was getting a heckavu lot of dark vibes." He cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. "You'd make a good bodyguard. Or Mafia member." With his trademark I'm-so-hot-I-sizzle sneer, he turned back round and carried on inspecting the Mission.

So what if it was immature that I flipped him the bird while he had his back turned? He was a nuisance. And he thrived off knowing he was a nuisance.

"Here," he suddenly said. I looked at 'here'. It was a window. As dark as all the other windows. Except...

"The latch is broken," I noted. Paul gave an almost imperceptible nod. "This is the one I used when I dealt with Heather. I remember Jesse yelling at me to run and then me getting really worried that he was hurt by the giant floating head and then him being okay and me running into him and us having a 'moment' and then him ruining the 'moment' by telling me I was bleeding and I was and then he gave me his hanky and helped me and that started off all these other 'moments' we had in the future and all those 'moments' being ruined invariably by him. Why do guys do that?"

Paul, eyes wide and mouth agape asked, "What?"

I gave him my look that I reserve only for guys. The one that said, "You're being dumb." The one I used a lot. "Why do guys always have to ruin 'moments'?" I spoke slowly, so he could catch every word.

Paul still looked like someone had just tried to shove Spike up his ass. "I can honestly say I don't know."

I made a disgusted noise and shook my head, then strolled over to the window and slowly and carefully opened it.

With one last scan of my surroundings, I climbed onto the sill, and heaved myself through. 'Elegant as a swan and stealthy as cat' didn't even come into it. After dusting myself down inside one of the classrooms, I nodded to Paul – who had instantly materialised – and took seat, perching on the end of one of the desks.

Breaking and entering a place of God never made me feel particularly comfortable or relaxed. Visions of lightning bolts and smouldering, frazzle-haired, crisp Susannah Simon's kept on slamming into my mind.

Paul hopped up next to me and snuggled a lot closer than necessary. The length of his long, hard thigh was pressed up against mine.

He plonked the big, ominous book on our adjoining thighs, and opened it up.

* * *

Inspired by **SwEeT-sHoRtEy**, anyone with any SENSIBLE, or ACTUAL questions on anything, post 'em in your reviews and I will post 'em at the end of every chappie, and peeps shall supply the answers or I will! At the end of every chappie. If you wanna. If you don't, THEN LEAVE ME ALONE.

Seriously. Questions on anything. But ones that you are genuinely curious about. I think this is my 'counsellor/shrink' personality coming through. Doo doo doo doo. Take cover!!!

No silliness, you silly boys.


	17. Children Of The Damned

**A/N:** Hi! Posting this directly after Chappie 16! Almost done with Chappie 18 aussi. Hehehe.

My beta (Anna - god bless you) said she didn't really understand the paragraph, so if you guys have the same problemo, tell me and I'll edit it. I confuzzle you enough as it is!!!

* * *

A plume of dust billowed up in tiny delicate dances whirling in concert and both Paul and I wrinkled our noses, coughing dryly. We waved our hands about and eventually the cloud began to disperse.

Instinctively, I reached out a finger, and trailed it down the first, blank page. The parchment was crisp, dry, old and weathered. The color was like diluted cream with pale patches of browny-orange that interspersed the paper. The material was thick and textured and reminded me of witches' spell books.

Slowly I lifted my finger, and Paul turned the page deftly.

The book slammed shut and before Paul or I could react, it whizzed from our laps and flew across the classroom, slamming into the opposite wall and cluttering to the floor.

I shrieked and almost leapt into Paul's lap. And, not to _completely_ destroy Paul's masculinity, but I'm pretty sure he let out a squeak of surprise too.

There was silence and we both let out long, shaky breaths. "Oh my God," I breathed.

Paul nodded his head. "Yeah," he whispered back.

"Hello."

Paul and I both let out a yelp of surprise. Paul's deep and mine...well, not so deep. I clapped a hand to my pounding heart.

"Bethany. Didn't your mommy ever tell you not to damage other people's property? Especially not books."

I hopped off the desk and walked – albeit on shaky legs – toward the book. Bethany was stood beside it with a big grin.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding very sorry at all.

"What are you doing here?" Snapped Paul, and I shot him a dark look. Bethany did the same. "Like mother like daughter..." he muttered, and my dark look darkened.

I turned to Bethany. "What are you doing here?" I asked in a much nicer voice.

She gave a shrug. "I dunno." I had a feeling she was in a 'difficult' mood today.

"Okay..." I said. "Paul and I are a little busy right now, doing adult stuff. How about we talk tomorrow?"

Bethany grinned. "Adult stuff means naughty stuff. Are you two sexing?"

"No!" I gasped. "No, no, no, no, _no_!" I took a deep breath. "No we're not."

Bethany looked disappointed. "What are you two doing then?"

I could feel Paul's grin searing a crescent shape into my back. "We're...reading. Okay? Boring stuff. Now say bye bye, Bethany. It's time for you to go bed. Bye bye."

We stared at each other digesting what I'd just said. In synchronisation, we raised our eyebrow together. Sometimes I was really dumb.

I bent over and picked up the book, brushing it off as I did so. Carefully avoiding the suspicious things that looked like squished spiders' legs as I did so.

"Whatchya reading?"

"A book," I replied shortly. Holding the book out slightly in front of me, I walked toward Paul.

"What kinda book? Does it have fairies in it?" Bethany was idly twirling pieces of chalk around her head. Using her mind, of course.

"Not unless it's got Adam McTavish in it," Paul muttered. I elbowed him in the ribs.

"No it doesn't have fairies in it. It's a boring dictionary-type book."

"If it's so boring," Bethany said slowly, "then why are you reading it?"

"Because we have to."

"Why don't you read it in the day time then? At least it won't seem as boring then."

"Because we have to read it now."

"No you don't."

"Yes we do."

"No you don't."

"Yes we do."

"No you don't."

"Bethany!"

"What?"

"What?"

"Susie?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to read the book."

"Oh, okay then." I was just about to put the book down when a little switch in my head lit up the bulb that flashed, '_Moron Alert! Moron Alert! Suze is being a moron!'_

"Hey wait a minute!" I spluttered. Bethany giggled. Clutching the book close to my chest I said firmly, "Bethany, you have to go now, okay?"

Bethany gave a pained sigh. "But _wh-y_?" She whined and stomped her tiny sandaled foot. Suddenly I remembered why I didn't want kids just yet.

"Because I say so."

"You're not my mommy," she huffed.

"No," I reasoned, "but I'm the one who's taking care of you while your mommy's not here."

"Oh," Bethany said.

"Yes. 'Oh.' 'Oh' indeed."

Bethany gave another pained sigh. "I guess I'll go." She shot a look at Paul and me. "But if you two start sexing then I'll be mad!"

And she disappeared.

I gave a shudder and tried to get rid of the feeling of a million spiders marching their tiny weightless feet all over my flesh. I don't know what revolted me more: the fact that a young girl was saying 'sexing', or the idea of Paul and me participating in said 'sexing'.

"You know, she might be on to something."

"What? Having sex? Because I swear Paul, if I find out you've brought protection – no matter how considerate that is and how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness – I will be thoroughly pissed off that you'd presume I'd-"

"I was talking about reading the book in the daytime."

I stopped short. "Oh. Yeah. I knew that. Sure. Um, sure. Yeah. No, we could read it in the daytime. I don't mind." I was pretty sure Paul couldn't see the red staining my neck and cheeks.

"Great." In the dark I could see the white of his teeth as he grinned. "Until then, I'm sure we could find time for some of that sexing you mentioned."

I scowled and hopped off the desk. "No, Paul. Unlike you, some of us believe in waiting for the right time, and not just throwing our virginity at the hottest piece of ass we see."

I walked over to the window and put my hands on the sill. "I didn't throw away my virginity for the first cute girl I saw, Suze," he said.

"Nah, course you didn't," I said. "You waited until you could get the cute girl's best friend." I knew what I was talking about; I had seen the movies.

"Suze, I haven't thrown my virginity away at all," he said.

I sighed gustily. "Fine! You didn't throw it away. I'm sure you felt at the time that you had reached the 'right moment'. Whatever." I was halfway out the window when I heard Paul call, "Actually, I've still got my virginity." I fell face first onto the asphalt as gracefully as a drunken hippo.

Paul was leaning against the wall next to the window staring out straight ahead of him. "What?" I said in a stage whisper.

Paul didn't meet my eyes. "I'm still a virgin."

Was it just a trick of the lights, or was Paul blushing?

Oh my God... oh...my...God...Paul was a virgin! And what was more, Paul was a _blushing _virgin! I fought hard to quell the giddy smile and giggles I could feel bubbling up my throat.

"You're not." Indignation and disbelief were my first emotions I felt after the shock dispersed into the night sky.

"Yes I am," he said tiredly. He pushed off the wall with his hands in his pockets and headed toward the school gates. I trailed after him, stumbling a little as I went.

"But...all that...all that..."I brushed a strand of hair out of my face in frustration, trying to get my mouth around the words that were trying to get out. "What about all that _sexiness_ you exude? My God, you're the man whose autobiography would be called, _I Breathe, Therefore I Promote Sexual Awareness_! And you're saying you've never, ever, not once, even participated in the act of..."

I stopped dead in my tracks as the revelation hit home. "Wow, in that case you must be a _god_ in..."

Paul turned round and flashed a grin at me. "Oh, do go on."

I scowled but figured I didn't have anything more to lose. "I'm just saying that if you're this..."

"Sexy?" The grin grew.

"Yes. If you're this sexy when you've never even done it, then when it comes to actually _doing it_, you're probably...you know. Really good." I gave a shrug and tried to put on an air of nonchalance. When really, I was getting funny tingling sensations where I shouldn't have been getting funny tingling sensations.

"I believe your words were, 'you must be a god.'"

I glared. "Or, you know. This could all be an act and you could be awful. Now wouldn't that be a let down? Imagine, everyone knows you're amazingly hot. _Everyone._ And then you actually do it, and everyone suddenly finds out how much of a façade that all is. How you're covering for one big fat lie." I gave a hoot of laughter. "It will be your undoing, my man. No longer will you be a legend. You'll have as much sex appeal as...as..." I clicked my fingers, "as Sister Ernestine! I can picture it now..."

I went into my own little dream world as I pictured it all.

"Suze..."

I shushed him and returned to picturing it.

"Suze! For God's sake, stop gloating." I shook myself back to the present.

"Fine. I'm just saying maybe you should watch yourself. You shouldn't be someone you're not, it'll only backfire."

"I'm not being someone I'm not. This is who I am. And trust me, Suze. I'm not going to be a failure in bed. You've already had a little teaser, you of all people should know just how good I can be," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Whatever. That still wasn't actually doing it. Who knows? Maybe you don't even have the goods." I huffed past him and heard him chortle. Although, for a guy who could have a weiner for his weapon of mass destruction, I'm not so sure what he had to be so happy about.

And then suddenly his mouth was by my ear and he was whispering seductively, "Why don't you find out then? I assure you, you won't be displeased by the results."

And God help me I believed him. I don't think for a second I ever doubted his masculinity. But it sure was fun goading him.

"No thanks, I'm fine," I said breezily. I slithered past the gates and retrieved the bike from behind a large shadowy bush. Paul took it from my hands and pushed it along, forcing me to walk with him.

We walked a hundred yards in comfortable silence. Then I asked, "So all these years you've had girls climb all over you, and you haven't defiled _any_ of them?"

Paul gave a casual shrug. "Pretty much."

"Wow. Talk about self-restraint. You should become a monk."

Paul smiled. "I'm self-disciplined, not a fool. I don't have any wish to remain celibate my entire life." He flashed the wolfish grin. "Quite the opposite, once I find the right woman. Or at least, once I actually _obtain_ the right woman. The finding part's already done."

Blushing just a little, I ignored the obvious provocation. "Didn't realise you were such a romantic," I said. Only being half-sarcastic this time.

"I'm not a sleaze, Suze. I'm just used to getting what I want. And to get what I want – if it means enough to me – I'm prepared to use whatever I've got."

"Money is a powerful aphrodisiac but flowers work just as well," I quoted. Though who I was quoting, I didn't know.

"Have I ever used money to seduce you, Suze?"

"Yes."

Paul chuckled lightly. "Okay, guilty on that account, then. That was only at first though. Then I realised you weren't like all the other shallow girls I've come across in my travels."

"I know, it must have been hard for you to actually _work_ at getting someone to like you. You poor, poor man."

"I'm learning," was all he said.

I snorted, but only half-heartedly. Because he was learning. He was getting more and more Jesse-like as the days went by. Next he'd be trading his gleaming BMW in for a glamorous white steed.

Although, that was pretty doubtful. There's no room to make out on a horse. However I'm sure Paul would have found a way.

"Alright. We've established you're saving yourself for the right girl. Once you find her – and once you marry her, obviously – how many kids do you want?"

God knows why I asked him. But I was genuinely curious. I'd never really seen this side of him. Glimpses of the genteel Paul were starting to peek through his shuttered inner-self, and it was intriguing and enticing.

Paul tilted his head in contemplation. "As many as you want."

I raised an eyebrow. "As many as your _wife_ wants."

Paul leered knowingly and I made a noise of dissent. "But how many would you like?"

"Three," he said instantly, and I was taken aback at how certain he sounded. He continued: "I want the eldest to be a boy – the protective big brother – and the other two to be little girls. Twins, if that's the way it is. And they'd play dress-up and gossip together, and they'd let their brother play with them too. Even though he'd act like he was too cool." Paul grinned and his eyes took on a far-away glint. "And the boy would be a scientist. And he'd work at NASA, or be a soldier in the Marines, then write a series of novels about life in the Marines. And the oldest girl would be a designer, and her sister would be an author, or an actress."

I smiled at the image, picturing his kids as he went on. "What would they be called?" I asked, my voice as dreamy as Paul's.

"The boy would be Mikey, or Charlie. My oldest daughter would be Jo, and the youngest would be Little Suze. Or Susie Jr."

I felt a smile begin to spread and then quickly reined it in. Paul turned his head to me. "How about you?"

I almost said, "I want what you want," because his life sounded so wonderful. Instead I said, "I pretty much want the same. I could always picture a boy and two girls. The dad would look after the boy, whenever I took the girls shopping, or whenever the girls were busy being girls. And sometimes my husband would take the girls out, and I'd hang out with my son. Teach him kick boxing or play video games with him."

Paul grinned. "What about their professions?"

I frowned. Usually my fantasies stopped there at the kids. "I'm not sure. I'd want them to be whatever they wanted to be. But I could picture my boy doing something that earned him lots of money. And he'd buy a house in Europe somewhere and fall in love with a beautiful woman who loved him the instant she saw him, and vice versa. And though his sisters would tease him about it, they'd love him for going all gooey and girly over love at first sight."

A light breeze tugged at my hair, and the stars twinkled overhead as if they were listening to every word being spoken.

"My big girl – she'd be called Maria – she'd be a big city chef, and go to lots of dinner parties and meet a sophisticated young man, who'd fall in love with her food, and cheekily ask her to cook him a meal at home, so he could make sure she wasn't using microwaveable meals. And because she'd be such a character, and she'd be strong and stubborn, she'd rise to the challenge and cook him a meal."

I grinned as I pictured it all, suddenly flooding into my mind as if it had been waiting there in the back of my mind, just waiting to be released.

But she'd say it was on her terms, and that she'd only cook him a meal at _her_ home. And then they'd end up cooking it together in her kitchen, and before they knew it, they'd be head over heels in love.

"And then my little girl. She'd be a college teacher, or a university lecturer. On Astronomy or Physics, or something smart. And she'd have millions of admirers – her students, colleagues, everyone. And she'd always complain to me that she thought she'd never find anyone to love. Until, _poof_. She found someone. Some man she met at a museum, or in a café. Who asked her for her help because he was lost or something. And then they'd bump into each other again and again until they decided that it was obviously Fate bringing them together all those times, and they'd go on a date. And then they'd go on another one and another one. And that would be it. They'd run away to some exotic island and get married."

There was silence for a moment except the gentle plodding of my sneakers on the sidewalk.

"Wow. Big bad Suze is a big bad romantic."

I gave a big sigh. "Yeah, I guess I am."

We reached my house and Paul opened the garage and wheeled the bike into it, all without budging an inch. I took a step forward when Paul said, "It's a shame." He was stood with the big black book tucked under his arm, and his eyes gleaming with honest contrite, which almost pulled me with startled curiosity from my dazed state of mind.

I turned round and blinked at him. "What is?" I asked.

In the dark, his expression was lost, but I knew he wasn't smiling or frowning or showing any expression. It was just his eyes that gave him away as they shone with the moonlight.

"That those dreams about your future will have to remain just dreams. Ghosts don't tend to make brilliant husbands or parents, you know," he said softly. And disappeared just as softly.


	18. Air Hockey

**A/N:** Hiya! Long time no see, eh? Didja miss me?

Don't answer that.

So I've been uber-busy this past MONTH. But because I've been so busy, I've been writing my chappie slowly...which means it just keeps on growing and growing... which is good. I swear. Also, I have 2 other stories going on that are NOTHING to do with Mediator, so they're kinda taking up a lotta time too. Not to mention all my COURSEWORK. And tests. Man, teachers suck ass.

Enough of my whining. AND ON WITH THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS (you know you lub them...):

**My Divinest:** Aw, shucks, ma'am, thanks kindly.

**Sandra Rose:** Mooowahahaha!!!! Power to the Converter (moi)! The Converter of Jesse fans to Paul fans. You can't believe how much of an ego boost it is to hear stuff like that. Even I'M beginning to want this story to be a P-S... so who knows???

**Athena884:** Seattle sounds so cool! Me and my friend are moving to America when we're finished with Uni in Engerland, and Seattle is on our list of 'maybes.'

**Oenone:** You've made it sound like I've made Paul into a split-personality psycho! I like it... :)

**DancinSweethart:** You rock my socks aussi, my dear. You rock my socks aussi... My socks are blue. YOU THINK MY PAUL IS YOUR FAVE PAUL??? AAAAAWWWW!!! That is sooooo NICE! THANK YOU!

**Acidic-Lover:** Sweetest Reject.... I shall TRY and remember tis you. So many names... Lol. Everyone wants Paul and Suze to get together now!! I'm gonna hafta add some Jesse and Suze action. Trouble is, I don't wanna make Suze seem like a slut (and trust me; that might happen once you read what goes on in THIS chappie...)

**x0SweEtkIssEzx0:** Omigod, you played tackle footie with hot seniors?? You lucky dawg. You shoulda made 'em kiss your broken finger better.... Heh heh heh... And thanks for the MAJOR compliment! My ego almost burst. YOU'RE FROM NEW JERSEY??? Omigod, as mentioned above to **Athena884**, that's another place my friend and I wanna visit when we move to America. Probably won't live in New Jersey, but we'd visit. SO BEWARE....

**Mystique Angelique:** You are such a moron. Like I have more talent than you. HEL-LO! You just posted - what? - 3 AMAZINGLY articulate and hilarious and moving and emotional poems - FREAKING POEMS! Only the HARDEST thing in the whole of mankind to write - and you did it SPECTACULARLY!!! I think you need to get your head outta that Aussi loo, Lolly, before you flush ALL your sanity away. Gawd. :) Hahaha - so true about Paul wanting to marry Suze being hot. When I wrote it, I was practically melting into my bed sheets. By the way, I think you may like this chappie, judging by your review - **_"I just wish that you'd do ONE THING, at least, where Paul just totally comes onto her, and she kind of responds..."_** - HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

**Naomi:** I always kinda got the feeling that Suze was a dreamy gal, and seeing as she was pretty spaced out with the whole Stiff-suddenly-appearing incident, and the whole Paul-is-not-a-virgin surprise, I thought maybe she'd let go of a few of her reserves and maybe let us - and Paul - have a little insight into what she's really like. Accidentally, of course. Because we all know Paul is not to be trusted... Doo doo doo doo

**Anna:** You're so odd. Merci for beta-ing. Next time, don't ASK if you can make corrections or changes, you moron. JUST DO IT. That's what I'm hiring you for. I'm TRYING to boost your confidence because you have AMAZING talent when it comes to writing - you fully made me cry with that St. Sepulcre's project thingy - but you are too SHY to spread your glory and love. Too shy... Such a waste... You sicken me. (Thank you)

**UnangelicHalo:** Hahaha, I seem to be making all the Jesse fans vair vair conflicted. It's quite beautiful. I can picture you Jesse fans all running round like headless chickens in your Jesse fan arena, while all the Paul fans and lounging about and being all suave and... Paul-like. I picture a lot of things in my head. None of them are normal. It's what makes me so special.

**xxreixx:** I think a more considerate Paul is a more..._human_ Paul. And a more human Paul is a more HOT, GOD-LIKE CHARACTER.

**Gen. Kenobi:** HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!! So, you were the one who popped Paul's cherry, eh? Thanks for clearing that up - Suze will be _devastated_, lol. I know in my previous chappie I said Father D drank Jack Daniels, but I can fully picturing him serving himself a Cosmopolitan... or a Florida Sunrise... while dressed in a French maid's outfit.... with bright red lipstick...and an old-fashioned feather duster... oh, God... the images..._the images!!!!_ I LUB your description of hormones: **_"They're like little nazis invading my life."_** - SO TRUE!!! When I'm writing and picturing Paul I just wanna jump into my laptop screen and... Well. Let's just say once I find Paul, there will certainly be no need for clothes... except maybe a French maid's outfit... Anyhoo, that new quote you gave me? **_"Your powers are weak, old man?"_** I TOTALLY used that LOADS, and I got a really great reaction to it each time. Hehehehe. I almost used it on my maths teacher when he was explaining powers to me (there were only 3 of us in that lesson - JUST 3 PEOPLE!!! Usually there are about 30).

**Metallicfire:** Hahaha, I lub my cliffies!!! When you said started talking about the sexual tension between Paul and Suze, and you said, **_"Come on Suze, it ain't that hard."_** I just about cracked up. I'm guessing you didn't mean it to be such a grande innuendo... BUT. Because, frankly, it _is_ that hard. At least, when it comes to Paul and certain aspects of Paul...

**moovalous3:** I see you are a truly faithful Jesse fan. And for that, I applaud you. Hehehe.

**Nice Hayley:** Hahahaha, oh man. Imagine if I did killl Paul. I can just imagine waking up, opening my curtains, and finding you standing in front of my big window with your axe raised, your teeth bared, hair mussedand your eyes glinting manically. HAHAHA - it's so graphic in my mind. HAHAHAHAHAHA, oh man. I need to get something to eat...

**Ellen:** Je suis glad you enjoyed it...

**Alenor:** That's the one thing I don't like about the Mediator series - the fact that if Suze ends up with Jesse, she won't be able to lead a full life, if you get what I mean. I haven't read Twilight though, so I guess circumstances could change, or something...

**Qui tacet consentit:** Halloooooo! I'm vair mucho pleased you are liking my story so far! Please.... do go on...

**Kit:** Thanks, doll!

**AmethystHannah:** Lol, I never really considered the fact that Maria was Suze's arch nemesis when I was picking the kiddies' names. Suze just strikes me as a Maria kinda person... Your idea for Suze and Paul being best friends - but still with Paul trying to jump Suze's bones - is a really good idea. I will actually consider it deeply...

**SwEeT-sHoRtEy:** Hahaha, no one can get over the fact that Paul is as pure as Snow White... Hehehe

**Pens in potatoes: **I just went on your online journal...why is your nickname Peeps? Lol. I have pondered this for quite a while, but I am still in a state of much confuzzlation....

**Thank you for all your support (still) - I was a wee bit worried about Chappie 17 and making Paul a v-v-v-v-VIRGIN. So merci for not blowing up in my face and screaming obscenities at me... Well, typing in capitals, anyway. I hope mucho you like mucho this chappie.... mucho.**

**AND THANKS FOR THOSE _STILL_ REVIEWING _Jesse's VPL_ - your reviews make me laugh.**

* * *

I woke with a heavy mind.

I woke with a torn mind.

I woke with a mind to kill.

Kill who, I didn't know. But I knew that, if I had the energy, I would have definitely killed someone. However, something inside me felt as if it were dead, and that was acting like a lead weight on all my other emotions, pulling them away from the surface and deeper into the swallowing river.

And then I realised it was a school day, and I was late, and if I didn't hurry up I would get a detention from Sister Ernestine.

I made it into the car just as Dopey revved the engine. He shot me a look, I shot him a look, Doc sighed in desperation from the depths of the backseat, and we took off for the Mission.

There was no mention in assembly of any break-in, so I figured I had gotten away with that. Though when I remembered why I had broken in, the weight that had been lifted promptly fell with a _ker-plunk_ back onto my already drooping shoulders.

Today was gonna be one of those days.

To be honest, I was a little pissed off at Paul.

Okay. To be totally honest, I was very pissed off at Paul. There he was being all nice and chummy and actually _human_, and then he goes and says..._you know_.

And do you know why I was so pissed off at him? Because what he said was human. What he said was true and he knew it and he was sad when he had no right to be sad.

He was sad and sorry because he knew what I wanted more than anything was Jesse and a normal life. He knew that I couldn't have both.

Talk about a mood killer.

I was kind of sort of pissed off at myself too. I was kidding myself and telling myself the impossible. Not facing up to my responsibilities and all that stuff that Mr Miyagi was always going on about. I would have made a very poor Karate Kid.

"Boo," whispered a voice behind my ear as I made my way to the loo during French (no, I wasn't skiving, I really had to pee. Sort of). I flattened a hand against my chest to calm the flutterings.

"Jesus. How come I never hear you come or sense you?" I hissed, making sure there was no one else to see me talk to thin air.

"I come in like the fog on little cat feet," Paul said, grinning ear to ear and looking very pleased with himself.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Carl Sandburg," he shrugged. "More or less."

My eyebrow remained raised. "What are you doing here?" But Paul just ignored me and looked around thoughtfully.

"Being here brings up a lot of memories," he said dolefully. I rolled my eyes so far back I almost fell over. Then he turned glistening eyes on me and took a threatening step toward me. I took one back and found myself crowded up against a pillar, Paul's arms trapping me there. "Like this. This brings back _a lot_ of memories."

"Whatever. I have to go pee."

Paul's smile remained and he ducked his head next to my ear, nudging some hair behind it. "Stop, you sweet talker, you."

"I'm not even joking. I really have to pee. Like, now." With a heartfelt sigh, Paul hefted himself off me, his chest leaving a sudden lightness on mine. "Thank you," I said. In the safe confines of the ladies' room, I gave a sigh reminiscent to Paul's and thumped my head against the big mirror.

When I came out, Paul was still there. Leaning against the pillar, hands tucked into his pockets and looking like he just came off the cover of GQ. I had to bite my cheek at the injustice of it all.

Paul took a step forward but I held my hand out feeling the power of Diana Ross flow through my veins. Or not. "I have to get back to French," I said by way of explanation.

Paul's eyes flashed with something but he merely nodded his head and stepped to the side. Being semi-dead must have given empathetic powers because he didn't push it and seemed to sense that I wasn't in a talking mood today. Something for which I was eternally grateful.

I plonked myself back down at the desk in French and refocused on Mademoiselle Vautour. I had just started concentrating on my French irregular conditional verbs when Paul fizzled into view...strewn across Mademoiselle Vautour's desk.

A snort of laughter burbled out of my throat.

Paul was lying with one knee perpendicular to the desk, and his other pointed out toward the front. He had propped his head on his upright hand and his other arm was draped languorously over his vertical leg. He looked Julius Caesar who'd just been told the 'ides of march' weren't coming to kill him. If he had grapes – and a couple of servant girls – he'd look right at home.

Vautor turned to me with dangerous glint in her eye and a deadly raised eyebrow. "Is there something you find amusing about conjugating conditional tense verbs, Miss Simon?"

I choked on my laugh as Paul switched positions – he was now doing the breast-stroke on the desk. "Nothing, Mademoiselle Vautour. Frog in my throat." This earned me a couple of snickers from the class. I sent glares in their general direction and they promptly stopped.

Oh, the power. It could really do things to a girl's head. Not me, though.

The class re-settled.

Oh my God...oh, my God. Paul was still doing the breast-stoke...but he was actually doing the breast-stroke. He was swimming across the classroom. In the air. All the while miming whatever Mademoiselle Vautour was preaching.

My whole body was shaking with suppressed laughter as Paul floated up to the ceiling and began doing seriously good impersonations of Spider-man, creeping across the ceiling on all fours.

"Miss Simon? _Miss Simon?_" I turned my eyes back to the front.

"Pardon?"

"_Est-ce que tu trouve quelque-chose amsuant, _mademoiselle Simon?" (**A/N:** Pardonez-moi pour mon francais terrrrrrible)

"No," I said. And got an annoyed eyebrow raise in response. "I mean; _non_. _Rien_." I gave a big phoney smile and she turned away.

Something tugged at my hair and I looked up. Paul was leaning over me and grinning inanely. I rolled my eyes and stopped when I felt light headed. Turning my attention back to the lesson in hand, Paul began to massage my neck.

No seriously.

_Massage_.

And he was _gooooood_. My tense muscles were melting away like butter and I feared my insides were going that way too. His touch was feather-light, then deep and probing but no less sensual or caressing. I was in heaven in French class.

"MademoiselleSimon, maybe if you kept your eyes _open_ during my lessons you wouldn't keep getting those _D_s on your assignments. Hmm?" I stifled a blush but Paul's hands didn't stop moving.

Now _this_ was a compromising situation. Old Vautour wanted an apology, but I reckoned if I opened my mouth, all that would come out would be a big fat long groan of pleasure from the beautiful havoc Paul was wreaking from my neck onwards.

"Sorry," I said, my voice course and strained.

"_Pfuit_," Mademoiselle Vautour said, and turned back to the board.

"Man, looks like someone ate a dodgy frog this morning," Paul whispered into my ear and a bark of laughter escaped me.

Before Vautour could even impale me with her sharp tongue I was out of the room, gasping out a feeble excuse as I fled. Mentioning 'puke' and 'socks' and 'Dopey's feet', or something like that.

I ran through the breezeway and escape outside like I sometimes did to visit Jesse's grave. Once in the soothing, warm air I let it out.

I laughed until I had tears running down my cheeks, until I had to clutch my the stitch daggering into my side, and until my jelly-legs forced my to slide down the wall. Once I had calmed down minimally, I began gulping for air. Gulping around the baubles of laughter that were still escaping, but in less urgency.

It wasn't pretty.

And I'm fairly sure Maybelline 100 Waterproof Mascara wasn't waterproof for these...less than majestic causes. I don't think it would sell as well if it had me on the commercials trying to project just how effective and waterproof it really was...whilst laughing my very red head off.

Like I said, it wasn't pretty.

I acknowledged Paul crouching down next to me, but in my inebriated state I couldn't make any move to let him know I'd acknowledged him. Which appeared fine by him. I could _feel_ the heat from his grin.

And then his hand was rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles while I tried – I swear I tried – to stop laughing. But every time I came even close to bottling up those snorts, a picture of Paul gliding across the classroom doing breast stroke – puffed out cheeks because of his imaginary breaths included – I just cracked up again.

Finally, though, _finally_, I managed to stop.

Sniffling somewhat and wiping my eyes I turned to look at him and...I don't know, either thank him or scold him. But when I turned my head, my nose bumped his.

And he had that look in his eye.

The look where his eyes were no longer cool oceans, but molten lead, ready to scorch anything. Or, in my case, any_one_.

The eyes that told me he meant business, and nothing was going to stop him.

The eyes that got me every time.

I involuntarily gasped at the raw passion that simmered in them before Paul was rocking his mouth over mine, hard and warm.

It was his take-no-prisoners kiss that always managed to melt a spot in me I never knew I had.

The thing that always got me, though, was that for someone who appeared so tough-as-nails and who was so inerrably cool; his mouth was anything but. His lips were soft and warm, and they cushioned and pressed and suctioned with a lack of poise differentiating from his usual composure.

It was exciting, endearing and filled me with such curiosity that I wanted nothing more than to kiss him some more. It was like seeing the real Paul.

Or rather, _feeling_ the real Paul.

So sue me if I kissed him back. I was curious. You could say this was all done in the name of education. You know; learn the ways of your enemy, etc. Of course, if you did say that you'd have to be fully prepared to be ignored or scorned. And with good cause.

Paul made a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat and before I could say s_mudge-proof lipstick_, he had me pressed up against him and the wall. Standing up. I blinked and the haze of arousal dissipated from my eyes.

"Wow. Now _that_ was smooth," I said. I hadn't even felt myself being hauled to my feet. I was impressed.

Paul grinned a feral grin at me and I was glad he was holding me with his body because my legs just about melted underneath me at the sight of those blinding-white teeth and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I know." He gave a phoney sigh of hardship. "I've had to practice time and time again to get that move perfected," he said, as if he'd sacrificed an arm and a leg.

I raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "How big of you," I muttered.

The grin returned full blast. "That's not the only thing that's big of me, sweet cheeks," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Even as the blush seared across my skin, I still managed to retort, "Tell me about it. I'm surprised you can walk with the weight of that huge ego you've got."

If anything, Paul just grinned more. "Ouch," he said. Then his lips were back on mine and I was liquefying all over again.

At the time, my mind was blissfully blank of emotion and thought. My sole purpose was to kiss Paul back with the same ferocity that he was executing on me, and to cling to his lips as they danced and tangoed over mine.

Looking back on it, I feel guilt, embarrassment, and a whole lotta other emotions make me blush six shades of red. I was a modern-day Scarlett O'Hara for all the wrong reasons.

It wasn't until I felt a particularly strong breeze buff me from the side that I remembered where I was... and what I was doing.

I unclenched my nails from Paul's posterior (how had they gotten there?) and let my arms drop to my side. My thighs tightened and would have snapped together if Paul hadn't insinuated himself there (when had I let him in there anyway?). My tongue returned to my own mouth (same question as the nails) and my lips stopped unglued themselves from Paul's.

Who didn't take a hint. Apparently the fact that I was lifeless under him didn't matter as he continued to have his wicked way with me.

After a while, I kinda got annoyed.

I don't like being ignored, okay? With a not-so-gentle nip to his bottom lip, I think I got my point across.

His lips left mine slowly, adhering on to the very last moment and letting go with an audible pop. He drew his head back and tilted it into his neck so he could look down at me.

His eyes were still dark and heavy with unbridled passion and their intensity left me a little unsettled.

"Something wrong?"

I swallowed a sigh and straightened up but Paul didn't leave his place from standing between my legs. If anything, he stood straighter and more determined.

He bent his head and applied his lips to my earlobe and I almost succumbed to waves of pleasure that were threatening to topple me over and drown me. But I didn't. I turned my head away.

Paul once again straightened up, and this time I met his demanding gaze. "This is wrong."

Something hot flicked through his eyes but it was gone in an instant. He took a step back and my thighs snapped shut. The heat he took with him was phenomenal and I felt like a cat being denied his place by the hearth.

Paul's eyes had lost any heat they might have held and were now cold and uncaring. "Then why does it feel so right?" He demanded.

"Because it's lust," I said strongly, trying to make myself feel as confident as I sounded. "And anything that's a sin feels right and good. Come on, Paul. You know the story of Adam and Eve."

"Indeed," he said flatly. "And what, pray tell, gives you the impression that us fulfilling our needs is wrong?"

Okay, so I blushed a little at the 'fulfilling our needs' bit. Because, honestly, I didn't really have that many needs in _that_ area, thanks to having a certain dead boyfriend doing his best to get rid of them. The needs, I mean.

"It's wrong when it's not honest and it's not real," I replied hotly.

Paul stared at me for a moment with seeing eyes. "Fine," he said. "Fine. I'll be in touch." With one last inscrutable glance Paul shimmered from view and I was left with a light head and a heavy weight in my stomach.

Pressing a hand to my tingling, swollen lips, I tried to figure out just where exactly I'd gone wrong with my life. And then I realised; I'd never been going right in my life.

It was like at every junction and crossroad in my life, I'd taken one route and at the beginning it had felt like the direction I was meant to be taking, and then suddenly I was at a dead-end, or I'd arrived at the wrong town.

What I needed was bus.

Or a tour guide.

"You called?" Sang a voice from my left. I whipped round and saw Jim perched up against the wall.

"Um...no."

"Sure you did," he said. "You wanted a tour guide. Here I am." He was leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed and hands tucked into pants' pockets.

"Oh," I said intelligently. Then I cleared my throat, "Nah, I'm good. But thanks anyway!"

With a shrug of his lanky shoulders, Jim disappeared with a pop.

I gave a heartfelt sigh. Why couldn't all my troubles disappear as easily as that? I ambled slowly back to the breezeway , really. My mind wasn't really all there at that moment. Yeah, like it ever was most of the time. When I almost walked into a breezeway column, I decided now would be a good time to break myself from my reverie.

I tapped my head. "No grass growing up here," I said sarcastically to myself.

"Of course not, silly. That's where your hair grows." A tiny giggle echoed from behind the column and I tentatively looked round it.

"Bethany! What are you doing here?"

She shrugged up at me, eyes wide, ankles crossed and deft fingers fiddling with the ends of her hair. "I like to watch you. Whenever my mommy had to work, I used to watch her too." Bethany reached out an arm and I crouched down to her height. She stroked my hair like it was golden thread. "She had pretty hair too." Slowly retracting her hand, she put her thumb in her mouth. "Mommy said when I was older, I would be just like her, and look just as be-a-u-tiful as her, too."

I sort of stared at Beth for a little while, wondering where the annoying brat from only a day ago had gone. Then I recalled my manners and smiled. "I bet you will." I didn't feel the need to mention that she wasn't going to be getting any older. And the realisation twanged something in my heart, something I usually kept deeply buried when dealing with the dead.

But Bethany nodded and said, still speaking round the thumb in her mouth, "Do you look like _your_ mommy?"

"I look more like my daddy."

Bethany's eyebrows furrowed and she stared hard at the top of my head. Then, as if reaching a conclusion of some sort, she brought her eyes back to mine. "Does your daddy have long hair then?"

I let out a snort of laughter at the image of my dad – the ruthless, bulldog lawyer – with hippy, flowing locks. I know disrespecting the dead is bad but... come on, it was funny. "Nah," I said, "he didn't have long hair. But he did have the same color as me. And we have the same eyes, too. And the same stubborn streak."

The thing I got from my mom was my faultless taste in lipstick shades.

That was probably about it.

"I'm going to go now," Bethany whispered.

"Okay then," I whispered back, and with a little finger wave Bethany disappeared.

If she were alive, I'd be finding the nearest child psych any day now. Then I felt guilty for thinking that; Bethany was probably just lonely. Wouldn't you be, if you only had lousy me for company?

Don't answer that.

After school finished I wandered down to my favourite place in the whole wide world; aside from my bed. As always, Jesse's grave was waiting for me at the end of the path, the fresh wild flowers splashing tiny mottles of color against the cool pale gravestone.

I stood there for a while just reading the words and picturing Jesse playing with his sisters on the ranch he's so fond of. Don't ask my why that image popped into my head. I guessed today was just my not-all-there, philosophical day.

Well, I've gotta have some _sometimes_. One can't always concern one's mind with the latest fragrance Tommy Hilfiger is gracing us with.

I felt something slip around my hand and clasp it gently, and sure enough Jesse was standing next to me, smiling down at me, then smiling down at his own headstone.

Talk about creepy.

As I was gazing up at Jesse, guilt washed piercing and cool across my skin like a harsh winter's breeze. I loved Jesse. I knew I did.

But where were all these feelings for Paul cropping up from?

He was changing; that much was obvious. But just how honest and selfless was it? And how _temporary_ was it?

Jesse ducked his head and bestowed a sweet, soft kiss on my lips. "What was that for?" I asked, my voice pitching several octaves higher. Why couldn't someone invent something useful like a breath-freshner that prevented any embarrassing voice-breakings?

Jesse continued to smile placidly at me. "You make everything seem so much simpler and brighter."

Affection, warm and tender as it is, still managed to sucker-punch me hard in the gut. But in a nice way, I guess. A goofy grin seeped across my face and even the gods would have had a difficult time in trying to stop it.

"Yeah, well. To quote the _Dashboard Confessionals_: This is easy as lovers go."

Jesse frowned but kissed me anyhow. Sometimes I thanked my lucky stars for having a boyfriend who didn't fully comprehend just how much of an idiot I really was. It made things so much more uncomplicated in the long-run.

"Come, _querida_. Let's go home." Jesse tugged at my hand and we both turned to walk down the path.


	19. Things Can Only Get Better?

**A/N:** Yoyo!!!! Long time no see!!! My apologies for the looooooooooooooong gap in chappie updates. I have actually had this chappie ready and waiting for about 2 weeks, but I had some problems with my beta-email-system, and I got real lazy over the hols...

You know how it is. So I'm posting **2 CHAPPIES TONIGHT**. And, okay, so maybe Chappie 20 is more of an Interlude, or a random BIT, but who cares? It's still writing, right? My beta hasn't betad it (sorry Anna, but these guys get SCARY when they're angry) so if it's full of faults...

**IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!**

**Hahahaha...**

* * *

**Athena884:** Oh man, another Paul fan. It's getting harder and harder for me to decide on who shall win... I mean, who'll end up with Suze. Win? What was I talking about? Haha... Um...

**SwEeT-sHoRtEy:** HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! A posterior is an ass, yes. Posterior derriere, bottom, butt, ass, behind, round swelling attached just below the lower back on a person's body.

**Circus Riddle:** Finally!!! A name that I can easily type and remember! And it makes sense! You get ONE bonus Brownie point. I'm glad you're enjoying the...ah, lust. Hahaha, tis me speciality, mate! ;)

**DancinSweethart:** You're not the only one confuzzled on the whole Paul-Suze-Jesse front!!!!!!!

**Sandra Rose:** Lol, I think I'm making Paul TOO funny and sexy... it's getting hard to decide who should turn out to be the good guy in the end... Doo doo doo doo...

**xxreixx:** Wow, you sure like Paul doing breast stroke in the air, huh? Who knows? Maybe next I'll make him Tango... or better yet! The Macerena - who DOESN'T love the Macerena??? :D

**Alenor:** I like sweet chappie endings, makes a change from cliffies, doesn't it? Sometimes the tension just gets TOO MUCH, YA KNOW???? ;)

**Mystique Angelique:** Can I just say that I lubbed your's and Hayley's latest chappie for Flashy - twas brill!!!! But why is everyone getting one up on Suze??? Everyone's embarrassing her!!! She needs to get one up on Paul, teach the little SOB a thing or two about that "little Dick" inside of us all. Anyhoo. I'm glad you lubbed my kissing scene in my previoso chappie, hahaha. Altho maybe you outta see someone about the whole melting issue...? Could turn into a bit of a drawback later on in life, if ya know what I mean... ;) And don't worry; I have no idea where this story is going either... And you're not fooling anyone, signing off you reviews as "Lolly the Pure One." Pure One my ass! You ain't fooling no one, sistah. Mmmmhmm.

**x0SweEtkIssEzx0:** Hahaha, okay. England is NOT always rainy. It rains in the winter. And sometimes in the Spring. And occassionally in the Summer. But we do get a lot of hot weather. And a lot of sun. It's just not always hot when there's sun... Hope you ain't too annoyed at the long wait til this update.... SORRY!!!

**AmethystHannah:** HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh man, you SERIOUSLY cracked me up when you thought I said Paul was stroking Madame Vautour's breasts.... HAHAHAHA, that is just so wrong...HAHHAHAHA

**UnangelicHalo:** You are soooooooo not the only one confuzzled! I'm in love with both of my main guys!

**Anna:** Anna!!! Omg, insult me some more, why don't you? That is way harsh. WAY harsh. And you fully didn't make that whole "wrong line in your story" thing clear, okay? And get your email sorted. I NEED TO BE ABLE TO EMAIL/RECEIVE EMAILS from and to you. DARN YOU.

**Gen. Kenobi:** Haha! "Right betwixt your legs" - that is such a good line. I gotta use it. Lol. Your _Dyslexic Disturbances_? SO LUB IT! I can't catch up on a lot of Fanfic cos mainly I'm too busy doing crappy stuff online, but when I do I ALWAYS check to see if you've updated. Aw man I lub it so much!! :)

**My Divinest:** Lol, I'm sooo glad you enjoyed _Jesse's VPL_, I may hafta do a sequel or something....

**Roomate153:** You can't love Paul AND Jesse!! That's just... that's... why, that's SCANDALOUS!!!

**Oenone:** I think Paul is the epitome of Bad boy-good boy complex. Moowahahaa, plus I think it's kinda sexy... So maybe I'm a bit biased when I'm writing this... who cares? Moowahahhaa....

**RayHaisa:** Omg, you sounded REAL eager for some sacrifices in your review... You don't keep goats, do you?

**Naomi:** Hahaha, whenever I right I can feel the P/S-or-J/S suspense running through my fingers... IT'S PAINFUL!! :)

**Nice Hayley:** Oh my God... twenty two kids? Not that I blame you... That Paul is gonna _wear you out_, sistah! Hahaha, and aaaaaaaaaaaall in a good way, moowahahahaaa. And if you melt when reading about Paul kissing other girls, what are you gonna do when he kisses you? Spontaneouly combust? Hahahaha... yes....

**daBecca:** Yoyo, da Becca is in da house! Anyhoo... You got a fight if you want Paul all to yourself, hun! I think everyone who reviews wants a slice of Paul... And who can blame them?

**GroovyBananas:** Hahaha, my story is groovy! That _totally_ kicks ass! And I apologise for making you like the bits with Paul in them... Moowahahhaa...

**soin2jesse:** Hope you enjoy.............................

**Frozen Souls::Free Fire:** Hey, a newbie! Just to clarify: I'm pretty sure I _haven't_ gotten my ideas from another site, mainly cos I don't think I've been on any sites that could have inspired me... But usually I use bits and pieces that I've heard or read to help the whole story-writing thing go along, so who knows? My ideas and lines have probably been done before, but that's a hazard when you write anything at all.

**Rinoa/Masuki/Yuna:** You afan of_Final Fantasy_ by anychance? Lol, I'm glad you lub my story!!!

**Ahhhh:** Updated!

**RidgelandHater:**'Aw...poor Paul'? What are you, nuts? YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SYMPATHISE WITH HIM!!!!Then again, he is so adorable...

**Sorry this has takenso long to be updated, MYSINCEREST APOLOGIES. And many thanks to those STILL reviewing Jesse's VPL, your reviews are hilarious. **

**I mightwrite a sequel or sorts...**

* * *

We were halfway down the path when I remembered a small but vital fact.

"Jesse! I've still got school!"

Jesse stopped walking and it sounded like he sighed. Which must have been wrong, because Jesse loves school more than I do, and he doesn't even go there. Which is probably the reason he loves it so much.

He turned to me and gave me a small but warm smile, the one that always reaches his eyes no matter what; the one that always makes me shiver no matter what.

"I forgot," he said sheepishly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

One thing I've always wished for is a photo album. A photo album of Jesse, I mean. One that had a collection of his sisters, his mother, his father, his dog – the one that gave him that alluring scar –, and especially him. I've always wondered what he looked like when he was younger. And it's only fair, really. He's seen photos of me ranging from me naked in a paddling pool (don't worry; I was only four years old – but _still_…) to me laughing with Gina at some Christmas party we went (before the kids realised I was nutso and not worth their time or attention.).

So it would really even out the scale of humiliation – which at the moment is dangerous heavy on my end – if I saw just a few glimpses of Jesse when he was a young'n.

I bet even when he was in his nappies – or whatever the 19th Century solution to that was – he had women falling all over him. And not just the moms cooing at how adorable he was.

I would place money on the girl toddlers wanting to have a stake in his sandpit.

Unfortunately back then the closest thing they had to cameras was blinking. Not that I mind; people say that when your picture is taken, so is your soul. And no _way_ would I want Jesse's soul snatched away from _me_.

So instead I had to make do with just having Jesse's image in my memory, which isn't exactly a hardship. That, or I just stare at him. A lot. And, again, that's no hardship.

It's not even that embarrassing because I'm pretty sure Jesse does it too. I mean; stare at me, not himself. Sheesh, he's not _that_ good looking.

Well, he is… but he's not like that. He'd never do something so vain, so arrogant, so…_Paul_.

But, occasionally, I would get this warm, tingling sensation on the back of my neck, and I'd look up only to see Jesse flushing softly, smiling even more so, and looking away.

Oh, yeah. I had a feeling he preferred the real thing to a couple of photographs too.

"Susannah?" His voice intruded into my thoughts and I blinked dazedly. He was still smiling – if a little quizzically – and had reached out an arm to guide me with his hand applying demonstrative pressure in the small of my back down the rest of the path.

"Are you going to walk me back home after school?" I asked surprising myself with the little girl voice that came out. I coughed and said more huskily and womanly (God I hope so, but I think I sounded more like I'd swallowed Selma or Patty from _The Simpsons_), "I mean, only if you have nothing better to do," then winced as I realised that Jesse would have nothing better to do.

He was dead, for goodness' sake. What was he going to do, walk the dog?

Jesse, though, smiled. He was pretty used to my never-ending dorkiness which I never seemed to be able to reign into any form of control.

I was obviously never destined to be cool.

Not that it mattered: the only person whose opinion mattered to me was Jesse, and it's not like he knew what 'cool' was. Come on, he still thinks bustles are the best thing since horse-back riding. Never mind that they make your behind look like it could run its own country.

The bustles, I mean. Horse-back riding just makes you look like you've got a very painful pole shoved the wrong way up your backside. If there is even a right way.

"I will walk you home,_ querida_." With a soft press of his lips against mine he disappeared into the warm California sunshine.

All the rest of the day I was on the lookout for Paul. I was angry at him and myself for the little lip-locking stunt he pulled – I pulled – _we pulled_ – Oh, God. That sounds even worse.

Whatever. Basically I was annoyed. At Paul. And myself. And I happen to like myself… most of the time. So I wasn't too happy at being annoyed at one of my favourite people…me.

Is that sad? It seems sad.

At any rate by the end of the day I was twitchy as a hypochondriac in a hospital. I was anxious to see Jesse; I wasn't anxious to see Jesse. I wanted to cuddle up with Jesse and just lie in his arms basking in that big glow of love; I wanted to drown myself in an acid bath. I needed the loo; I didn't need the loo.

Okay, that was a lie. I really did need the loo; a sure sign I was truly nervous.

Or I shouldn't have drunk Adam's soda at lunch in a bid to prove to him that I could handle all that carbonated drink without belching loudly and obtrusively – or even quietly and absurdly ladylike.

I was wrong and now owed Adam five dollars and my ever-lasting vow to have his children – all 56 of them.

CeeCee had observed the entertainment – immaturity, she had the nerve to call it – with a distinct air of disdain and despair. Mother hen was not happy with her chicks. I shook Adam's hand and met his eyes determinedly, and he winked back at me and made kissy pouts with his lips.

"You just wait, MacTavish. No pocket of gas shall pass through these lips."

"You have courage, young warrior. But what you make up in arrogance, you lack in wisdom."

"Bite me, Maccy-T."

"You lose this bet and I'll be doing more than that, future-mother-of-my-children."

"I win this and you'll be shaving off your eyebrows and taking CeeCee on a real date to Coffee Clutch. After a night of dancing," at CeeCee's look of panic I reiterated, "or just a night at the movies."

CeeCee had blushed prettily – and scarily at the same time – and Adam had nodded his head firmly. "Bring it on, Simon."

And then he'd handed me the can.

As soon as I'd gulped it down – carefully avoiding sucking in more air than necessary – I crunched the empty piece of tin in my hand and plonked it on the table.

We waited in silence until –

–"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp."

"Ha _ha!_" Adam yelled triumphantly as the melodious belch died down. "Prepare for bearing my godly children, Simon! But first…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and I turned to CeeCee.

I mouthed a 'sorry' and she smiled wanly back.

Adam was still chattering away, a dazed look making his eyes glow.

I was just about to take a bite of my apple when a light _tap-tap-tap_ made itself known on my shoulder and a small shadow flitted across the table. I turned round and found a nervous looking Doc.

"Hey David," I said, then bit into my apple and gazed at him expectantly.

"Um, hi. Can I – can I speak to you for a sec?"

"What is it you're doing now?" I said around my mouthful of apple.

A fleeting look of disgust at my apparent lack of manners – table _and_ social – flitted over his face, but was quickly repressed by his previous nerves. "I need to speak to you in private," he said, then added an impatient, "please."

I took one last bite of my apple and chewed it thoughtfully, looking at the serious and slightly panicked expression on Doc's face. After severe contemplation – and finishing my mouthful of fruit – I threw the remaining piece into the nearby bin (if I were three foot taller I could _totally_ be a Harlan Globetrotter) and rose from the table. I shook out the cricks in my neck and made a vague 'lead the way' gesture.

Doc trotted off toward the quiet space near the edge of the Mission ground's boundaries.

Now, I know Doc's not one of the most normal people in the world. But it's not entirely his fault. He's just too smart for his own good. And that's not really something you can hold against someone, is it? He notices things, and he remembers things. He just doesn't necessarily _think_ about the circumstances when recounting these things. Which can lead to a whole lotta trouble.

I was just glad he had someone like me; the older sibling to watch his six, and scare the crap out of the bullies for him.

So, taking into account that dear old David isn't the smoothest pebble on the shore, I was still feeling a penchant to call the local doc. My own little red-headed Doc was busy shooting glances left and right, and I could all but see his large ears – strangely similar to those of Dopey, one of those infamous Seven Dwarves – twitching with anticipation.

Or maybe he just has some sort of woodland creature's DNA mixed into his own.

Who knows, maybe all that Boy Scout stuff has gone too far into his head. I personally have always been wary of them ever since learning about their 'woggles.'

I was sorry I ever asked Doc about that one.

Finally, though, he drew to a halt, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet and hands curling round each other restlessly, eyes sliding over the landscape.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you high?"

"What?" His eyes snapped to mine – but only for a second. Then they were back to whatever they were doing, bouncing their gaze from place to place.

"Have you taken something?" I reiterated, enunciating clearly.

This time he didn't even bother to look at me, just snorted softly, which sounded absurd calm coming from such a jumpy thing.

"Are you sure? No crack, no E? Nobody sneaking any white powder into your taco? You didn't hang around the big boys smoking tangy-smelling smokes in the loos? You didn't inhale a glue stick? Paint varnish? Oh man, you didn't take one of Brad's high-energy drinks, did you? Cos you know as well as I do that you can't handle your sugar. You tried to fly last time you had a full-fat coke, remember? Like Superman, you said."

I shook my head fondly at that particular memory.

"Suze, would you shut up _jabbering_ for just a second?" he snapped, and this time his eyes were clear and sharp as lasers, the earlier ambiguity gone.

I frowned and put my hand to his forehead. "You don't have a temperature."

"Of course I don't have a temperature!" he all but yelled. "Neither have I consumed any illegal substances nor any high-sugar, energy-boosting, sports drinks." He blinked at me. "And when smoked, weed – or cannabis, marijuana, grass as it's also known – has a sweet, heavy perfume, as opposed to tangy. Not that a smell can even _be_ tangy." His brow creased in thought.

Then he shook his head irritably, as if there were some annoying bug flying at it repeatedly.

"But that's not the point!" His eyes took on that wary look again and he glanced around our surroundings apprehensively. Seriously, who did he think he was – James Bond? Next he'd be pulling out a pen and stabbing me with its poison-filled nib.

He reached into his shirt pocket – inclusive of pocket-protector, bless his heart, filled with its nerdy goodness – and whipped out a pen.

So sue me if I jumped and omitted a slight yell of alarm. I put my hands in a "Don't shoot" position. "Whoa, there; Mr Shaken-not-stirred!"

Then he pulled out a notepad with a map of the stars as its cover and gave me an odd look.

I lowered my hands sheepishly, but eyed the pen. Who knew with geeks? They were unpredictable. Only yesterday Doc had asked me a question about guns – and, okay, so maybe he was only asking my opinion on a what water gun to ask for in regards of his birthday, but still. That's how it all starts, isn't it?

Old Jimmy B was probably a chubby toddler splashing about in his paddling pool in sunny England when he pulled out a water pistol, squirted the cat with it, then turned to his female toddler friend who was flashing him wearing only a water-proof nappy, akin to his.

I blinked myself out of these random – not to mention disturbing and mentally damaging – thoughts only to discover Doc writing furiously on his notepad, bottom lip sucked between his two Bugs-Bunny front teeth.

He shoved the pad into my face and I took it, shooting him a look of incredulity before turning my attention to the curly writing.

_Is Paul here?_

"No," I answered somewhat bewilderedly. Then added a little belatedly, hopefully in an '_as if_' tone, "Unless he's turned invisible or something. I mean; do _you_ see him?" Doc nodded, grabbed the notepad, and began scribbling away again.

Now…this was odd. And it was weirding me out. _Fast._

Has_ he turned invisible? Is he dead?_

I read the note and when I looked up David's eyes were wide. "Yes…" A said, stunned. "Well, sort of. He's semi-alive, semi-dead." I made a dismissive gesture with my hand, "It's complicated."

When is it ever not, in my life?

I frowned at him. "How did you know?" Doc made to retrieve the notebook but I stopped him. "You might as well speak to me, you know. If anyone hears, we'll tell them it's genetic; we're both nutso."

Doc raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Ignoring the fact that we're both from separate gene pools, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Right. Of course." He rolled his yes. "I guessed Paul was…you know, when he didn't turn up for another week of school and both you and Father Dominic seemed a tad more stressed than usual."

Now it was my time to raise an eyebrow. "And you deduced all this from that?"

Doc's ears burned red and his freckles faded into a sea of blush that suffused his face. "I always overhead you talking in your bedroom."

I took a predatory step toward him. Who cared if he was my baby step-brother? It was my God-given right to intimidate him. "You were _eavesdropping?_"

"I wouldn't really call it…" He stammered but I cut him off.

"You were _snooping_? _Snooping_?"

"You mean snooping like you do on Brad's phone calls? Yeah, I guess you could say that…"

"Don't try and make me feel guilty! _I have no scruples._ So don't even _think_ about turning the tables on me. Won't work, buster! I have no heart, no soul, no sense of remorse."

"In other words you're a bitc– "

"Don't swear in front of me, young man. Unless you want a cuff round the head."

"Yes, ma," he grouched. I scowled. I did not sound like my mother.

The only time I sounded like my mother was when I was singing. Of course, then I also sounded like an alley of cats being murdered simultaneously.

"I was wondering if you wanted my help?"

"In cuffing you round the head? Nah, I think I can handle that. Let me just practise first."

"Suze! I'm serious, here. Do you want my help in helping Paul…return to his full form?"

My mind involuntarily drifted back to mine and Paul's moment up against the wall…nope, don't think he needed any returning to full form. He got any fuller and…

And I'm not even going to finish that thought if I don't want the top of my head to blow off.

Was it just me, or was it hot out here all of a sudden?

I cleared my throat and said, "Um, how about I call you if I need any research done?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Sure. Just…don't do anything stupid, okay?"

_Too late_, I couldn't help thinking. Instead of saying that, I smiled reassuringly. "No problemo. Trouble equals no no. Trouble: bad. Got it. No trouble. Trouble is so _not_ my middle name. No way. Huh-uh. Nope. Certainly not."

"I don't know what God was thinking when He gave you this gift."

"I like to think He was drunk, and _wasn't_ thinking."

"That sounds about right…I'd better go back to my friends…don't want them thinking I'm instigating your aid in protecting me from some mindless bullies."

I let loose a chuckle then abruptly stopped. "You're being bullied?"

Doc smiled mysteriously. "See you at the end of the day, Suze." And he skipped off. Maybe I should talk to him about the skipping…?

I wandered back to my table where CeeCee was trying to convince Adam that it was impossible to train a Great White shark to be your helper-monkey.

"Hey guys, miss me–"

"Sharks can't process scent, sight or feel with memory! In _other_ words; they can't be trained as pets or as _helper monkeys!_"

"But, Cee! What if we got a really big cattle prod and–"

"You know what, Adam? Why don't you swim out far, _far_ into the ocean and find a shark. Then, swim up to it and tell him you want to be his friend. Maybe – _hopefully_ – he'll rip you into tiny shreds with his multi-rows of teeth and _then_ I can laugh in your face and tell you _I told you so!_"

CeeCee jumped up from the table and grabbed her book bag, shooting one last glare at Adam. "Do me a favour, _MacTavish_. Hurry up and _grow up_. Maybe then you'll be able to look back and realise why you haven't got – and have no _chance _of getting – a girlfriend."

And then she stormed off like JLo in the midst of a diva tantrum.

Adam and I turned to each other in identical shock. "Well, she sure told you," I finally said.

"Was it something I said?"

I truly felt bad for him because he looked so lost and befuddled. Like a budgie who just got sucked up the vacuum cleaner.

"Adam, it's everything you _didn't_ say." I got up slowly from the table while smiling sympathetically at Adam, and left to go find CeeCee.

Even from the breezeway I could see this defeatist slump of his shoulders and the nervous jiggling of his leg.

I jogged through the breezeway looking left and right for that shock of pearly-white hair that probably glowed in the dark. I was about to head back the direction I'd just come from when I heard it. CeeCee's normal voice of quiet authority was raised and shaking, screeching erratically up and down the octave scales.

"I'm sorry; did your computer suck out your brain cells along with this piece of crap? What, did you really think I was going to print this atrocity and bore our scattered readers to the brink of death?"

I tentatively opened the classroom door that was muffling CeeCee's incredulous voice and saw her shadowing a cowering fellow journalist.

"I'm-I'm sorry…I thought it was appropriate…" she stammered.

"The only place this would be appropriate is in a furnace coated with gasoline. Get out of my face and don't even _think_ about returning to the newsroom until you have something that isn't worthy of being used as a bed for flea-bitten strays, who consequently could probably write better news than _this_." CeeCee slapped the offending papers onto the desk. "Well?" she demanded in a sickly-sweet tone. "_Go!_" This time her voice was more like a snake bite.

The poor, unsuspecting journalist fled from the room and in the glimpse I saw of her face, I could spot her round eyes glimmering with tears.

I slowly walked into the room, mentally and physically preparing myself for a barrage of CeeCee insults.

That girl had one sharp tongue, let me tell you.

CeeCee turned wide, violet eyes to me as she stared at me in shock. "Oh my God, Suze. I think I just ruined that girl's confidence for life. I've just ruined somebody's life." She collapsed onto a chair and plunged her hands into her hair resting her elbows on her thighs.

"Nah," I said, "she'll be fine. She'll eat some chocolate, cry to her friends…maybe even her parents – who, subsequently, might hunt you down and rip you to pieces limb by limb – and then she'll get over it and just bitch about you behind your back. The end."

CeeCee groaned.

"You want me to go talk to her?" I offered. "Because Kelly Prescott fully gave me this lecture on how I'm supposed to be 'available' to those who might need someone to talk to. Which makes sense, I mean; someone needs to be open for the girls to talk to when she's busy being way more 'available' than necessary for the guys. I do so _not_ think Mr Walden intended 'being available' to mean 'letting every guy stick his tongue down your throat.'"

CeeCee snorted softly. "Hey, at least she's being a good sport for charity."

"The guys in our year are way past charity cases, Cee. They're hopeless cases."

"Tell me about it," she whispered somewhat wistfully.

"Here's an idea: how about _you_ tell _me_ about it?" I asked gently and pulled a chair up opposite her. I had never seen CeeCee lose her temper before, and suddenly here she was: losing it _twice_!

It could only mean one thing: guy trouble.

"I'm just… fed up, Suze."

"Yeah? Of what?"

She raised her eyes and pinned me with a gaze that breathed prefect clarity, and simultaneously we said in exasperated voices, "_Adam_."

CeeCee nodded and looked down again. "Yeah. Adam. I feel like I'm trying and trying for an endless goal. Like there's nothing at the end of this tunnel. Sometimes he acts so friendly and wonderful and I think, 'This is it.' But then, just as I open my mouth to maybe ask him out on a date or something, he goes and says something like, 'Do you think that girl's boobs are real?' or 'Cee, do you think Suze might secretly be interested in harvesting my future children?'"

I winced in guilt and, to be perfectly honest, disgust – _harvest_ Adam's children? Ew – "I'm sorry, Cee. I thought I'd made it clear that he doesn't stand a chance; maybe I should just tell him _'Not in this lifetime, bud_?"

Although CeeCee chuckled she still looked desperately sad. "I don't blame you, Suze. Adam's an idiot. And he's obviously just not interested in me. And trust me; there are times when I've been as subtle as he is about you. But he gives me this look in return like he's confused and then changes the subject."

I chewed my tongue in thought and said slowly, "Maybe…maybe it's a sign."

"That Adam has no brain? Yeah, I'd say that."

I smiled tightly. "True. But I was thinking more along the lines of maybe it's a sign to get over him. Move on. Cee – you are an amazing person. And, no offence to Adam, but you could do so much better" – mentally I prayed for God not to strike me down with lightning or a big truck – "and you _deserve_ better. Again, no offence to Adam."

"I _know_ I deserve better," she said and sighed in exasperation. "But I _want_ Adam. I love him, Suze. Like you love Jesse."

"True…but sometimes love isn't meant to be. You know the phrase, 'True love's course never runs smooth.' Well, that may be because that true love isn't meant to be."

"But _why_? Why can't he love me? What's so wrong with me?" She laughed bitterly. "Is it cos I is white?"

Okay, I admit it, in this time of serious contemplation and dark heartbreak, I laughed. Loudly. She did a _really_ good impression of Ali G. **(AN: okay, I don't know if you guys even _get_ Ali G, but he has this thing where he always says, "Is it cos I is black?" Except he's not black. He's really _not_ funny but it popped into my head and I had to write. Again; my apologies. )**

"You know as well as I do that you're gorgeous. White is the new black. You're the latest accessory that everyone _has_ to have. People worship Albinos. I fully saw this report on CNN." I heard it was okay to lie as long as no one found you out and it was for a good cause. "It has nothing to do with your looks, Cee. You might not be destined for each other, and you've got to accept that."

"But I'm so sure we are!" she objected, "We've known each other for _years_, and we've always been such good friends!"

"Perhaps that's all you're meant to be, then! I don't know. You know how we can find out, though?"

CeeCee looked at me in hope and suddenly I was very, very regretful of even thinking this thought. "How?" she asked.

I bit my lip then said, "Ask him."

CeeCee frowned in confusion. "Ask him what?"

"Ask him out. On a date. To a wedding – _your _wedding. I don't know. Ask him if he wants to take that one small step for man, that one giant leap for Adam-and-CeeCee's-relationship."

CeeCee looked horrified and petrified. "I couldn't do that!"

"Sure you could," I said in a falsely bright voice. Then I turned serious. "Cee, it's either this or let go. You can't go on like" – I waved my hand ambiguously – "_this_."

She thunked her head on the nearest desk. "I know. I hate being so smart. I hate knowing I have to do something."

I nodded in empathy. "I know the feeling. Being smart is _such_ a burden. Never having to stay behind after school for tutoring? Never having to ask your younger stepbrother for help? God, it's so _demanding_."

CeeCee thwacked my arm playfully. "Shut up."

I mimed zipping my mouth and throwing away the key.

The Mission bell tolled and we looked at the door guiltily. "Time to face the music," I said and stood up from my seat.

CeeCee rose with me. "Can you… can you not mention any of this to Adam? I'm gonna…I'm probably going to need some time before I can actually confront him."

"You're not confronting him, Cee. You're asking him, you're finding out the truth. No confronting necessary."

CeeCee exhaled gustily. "Sure, Suze." She walked over the door, gave me one last sad smile, and left.

I blew out a breath and shook my head. "Adam is such a dumbass," I whispered. And then I left the classroom.

And bumped straight into Adam.

Seriously. I toppled him right over. Like I was Goliath and he was some measly little gawking sheep. A little gawking sheep I was playing soccer with.

"Jeez, Suze. You been packing on the pounds? I told you; doughnuts aren't the way to go. I've seen you stuffing those crullers into your bag."

I raised an eyebrow and stuck out my hand to help him up. He brushed himself off and looked at me nervously.

"Is Cee stressed with me?"

I wondered how I could sugar-coat my reply and make it as sensitive as possible. "Yes." Ah, well. Who needs sugar-coating?

"Why?" he whinged, eyes widening and brow puckering.

"Because you're an idiot."

"I've been an idiot for the past seventeen years! What's changed in one week?"

"CeeCee's grown up, Adam. Now she's waiting for you to do the same," I said – and who cares if it was somewhat enigmatic? – and walked off to my locker.

I heard some faint clapping to my left and Jim popped into view. "You should totally think about counselling for a career."

Seeing as I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, I replied with a carefully neutral tone and phrase: "Bite me."

He gave a shrug and popped away again.

_Wow_, I thought. _Someone who obviously has a bigger lack of life than me_. I frowned. Did that even make sense?

"No," whispered a voice and I yelped.

"You can read my _mind_?" I squeaked.

"Duh. I'm your guardian angel. I have to know what stupid thing you're going to do next in order to be able to save your round ass from being swept off its mortal coil."

I stopped walking. "My butt is not _fat_. And please don't read my mind. I don't want to scare you, but most of my thoughts are disturbing."

I'm pretty sure I heard him mutter, "No kidding," but I couldn't be sure.

"And for your information," Jim said, "I _do_ have a life. I just wanted to pop in and see how you were doing. I'd forgotten how complicated teenage life was. You should tell that Albino chick to rock on, she's a cool dude."

And then I heard a distinct pop that signalled Jim's exit.

I stood in the middle of the breezeway mystified and a little freaked out.

This day was possibly one of the weirdest ones I'd ever experienced; and I was only at school! I realised Jim had called CeeCee a chick and a dude in one sentence, but before I could work up any indignation on hers and the female population's in general part, Sister Ernestine came striding down the breezeway and I shot off in the opposite direction, still feeling as though my body had somehow been transplanted into a parallel universe.

To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised. It seemed in the story of Suze anything and everything could and would happen, just as long as it sufficiently threw my life and thoughts off course and ended up with me getting into trouble.

_One day,_ I fervently wished. _One day I will be normal. _And couldn't help but thinking, _Whatever the heck that was._


	20. Thoughtless Thinkings

**A/N:** Ciao, amigas! I figured, what with you guys being so patient and all, that you deserved a little more than one lousy chappie. So here's another. It's short, but not particularly sweet.

Call it an Interlude, or just a random chappie. Whatever. Don't expect much. Mainly drabble with just a hint of bitterness...

Just a little insight into what Jesse thinks, maybe what's going on inside that hot, snoggable head of his...? You decide. Or you can just ignore this chappie if you want. It is, after all, meaningless and pointless.

Or is it...?

:) Enigmatic Emily is on the case... Doo doo doo doo

* * *

I walked out of school at the end of the day and, after sending CeeCee a sympathetic smile, I bumped straight into Dopey.

"Hey! Watch the goods."

I barely contained my eye roll. "I'm walking home. Make sure you don't 'forget' to take David home."

"Hey!" he objected, "I told you that was an honest mistake! He's so small I can't help it if I forget he exists!"

I gave him a scandalous look. "He's your brother!"

Brad shrugged and walked away.

For a moment I just stood there, staring agape at Brad's retreating back, wondering how on earth such a thing could ever be created. I think he appeared, fully formed, from a putrid egg.

I felt a light touch on my shoulder and twizzled round to find myself looking up at a softly smiling Jesse, his ethereal glow casting an angelic warmth around him.

My angel.

Aside from Jim, that is.

With a slight nod of his head, Jesse signalled that we should start walking. So walk we did. I put myself on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road, to save any inconveniences involving poison-ivy. Ew.

"Did you have a good day, _querida_?" Jesse inquired and he looked down at me with smiling eyes. What can I say? Jesse was a smiley person.

"I had a weird day," I replied, frowning at the memories of what had happened. I recounted the events – starting with Doc, going through CeeCee-and-Adam, and ending up with Jim – and Jesse fell into a silent contemplation. Either that or he had fallen asleep at my boring story.

You know when you ask someone something so innocuous as a "Good day?" when you aren't really paying attention? When you're only asking to be polite whereas really you couldn't give a fig? I _detest_ it when the recipient of your question then proceeds to give a full-length blow-by-blow account of their whole day, in every miniscule detail. The harmless question turns into the most deadly weapon of merciless annihilation as the tale-teller gradually bores you to a slow and painful death.

So I felt a bit of a hypocrite when Jesse fell silent. But then he started speaking and I realised – not without a tidal wave of relief – that he had actually been listening to my report.

"Has CeeCee been in love with Adam for a very long time?" he asked.

I blew out a gusty sigh. "Oh man. You would not believe. He's been the light of her life since she was a tiny Albino pup. And he's been ignorant for just as long. Adam's not too great when it comes to the psyche of women," I added understatedly.

Jesse nodded thoughtfully. "Why does CeeCee not just – how do you say? Ask him out?" He frowned at me in that cute lost-puppy way and I couldn't resist a grin.

"Yeah; ask him out. And she hasn't done it because she's been afraid. You know; of rejection. Which, even though she's a sparkling-white beauty, is viable. Adam's gotten used to them being friends, I guess. Plus the fact he's a moron."

"Of course, Susannah," Jesse said wryly. He frowned again. "If CeeCee is so certain of rejection then why doesn't she move on? She is a very eligible young lady; surely there must be other interests in her, romantically?"

I shrugged because, outside of school, I had no idea how wide Cee's social circle went. For all I knew she could have the entire male population of Carmel's journalist group in love with her. All I knew for sure was that no one at the Academy had ever showed more than a friends-only interest in her. Which was a sad realisation cos Cee was the biggest catch out there. And she deserved guys fawning over her.

"I don't know, Jesse. But Cee's stubborn as a mule, and she's determined to get Adam. Unfortunately the reality of the situation's beginning to hit her. Sometimes love isn't love, and sometimes love isn't meant to be." I leant my head sadly on Jesse's shoulder, not really caring if the outside world saw me seemingly walking with what must be the biggest crick on my neck.

"And what of Adam?"

I snorted. "What _about_ Adam? He doesn't know what love is, Jesse. The only thing he thinks about is getting some."

As he'd demonstrated many-a-time on me.

I felt Jesse incline his head toward me and his cheeky ruffled my hair.

"'Getting some?'"

Heat crawled across my face as I tried to think of a _subtle_ way to describe that certain mating act. "Um…well, first you get a girlfriend – or a boyfriend – and then you kiss and cuddle and then…you sort of get the next step."

_Please don't make me explain anymore, please don't make me explain anymore…_

"The next step?"

"Yep. The next step."

"What is the next step, _querida_?"

I coughed. "Usually it involves a bed…and a pointed lack of clothing."

"Oh." This time Jesse coughed. "I see. So…_intercourse_ is 'getting some?'"

Oh, God. If I got any redder I'd explode. "Yeah. Kids these days, huh? No romance whatsoever."

I tried to laugh but sounded more like a frog giving birth.

I'm pretty sure I heard Jesse grumble. "So CeeCee is interested in a romantic relationship, whereas Paul is interested in sex?"

"Yeah, basically."

Then I stopped walking. Because Jesse had said… "Paul?"

Jesse stopped walking. "Pardon?" He turned quizzical dark eyes on me.

"You said Paul," I answered slowly. "Instead of Adam, you said 'Paul is interested in sex.' _Paul_." I had a feeling my eyes were round and big, which probably explained why my head suddenly felt empty. I was pretty sure all my thoughts had escaped through my suddenly wide eyes.

I saw the defenses slam into place as shutters came down over Jesse's eyes and his backbone slid straight. "You're mistaken, _querida_. Why would I say Paul when I meant Adam?"

I tried in vain to search his eyes for any emotion – any clue at all – but it was hopeless. "I don't know, Jesse." Desperate to get that expressionless face and what felt like a 6 inch-thick wall between us away, I forced a smile and said in a falsely cheery voice, "You're probably right, Jesse. I must have heard wrong. It's been a weird day."

Jesse frowned, but his face cleared and soon his smile – as forced as mine – was back on his face. He scooped me back under his arm and carried on walking.

But I couldn't shake the dark and heavy feeling that was suddenly clouding my mind and falling onto my shoulders.


	21. Verses And Curses

**A/N:** Hey! Remember me? I know, I know; it's been **AGES** since I last updated (sorry!!!) but my Muse just isn't there... ANYWHERE!

Which is why this chappie is sososososo short. But I had to post something, cos you guys were getting _agressive_!

**Acidic Lover:** So many questions... maybe they'll be revealed... maybe not... :)

**Mystique Angelique:** Hahaha, you're not a stalkerish person on MSN. I'm just never available, so you're always having to ask and I'm always having to RUN AWAY, SCREAMING. I thought that educating Jesse on modern-day phrases would play an integral part in my story, so some demonstrations as to things he might be learning would be good. And I thought 'getting some' was a good place to start... oh, the possibilities...

**RidgelandHater:** Hehe, poor Jesse. Bless him. This world is such a shock to him. One day he might just explode.

**My Divinest:** Um... I'm hoping you _didn't_ die on anticipation while I took a long time to update...

**Alenor:** I hope this isn't too much of a cliffie (I know how anti-cliffie you are (and so am I, when I'm not writing the story))

**emlythekool:** HI!!!! Thanks for all your reviews for N the N... THERE WERE SO MANY!!! :)))) Hahaha, you're nuts, you know? In a good way.

**UnangelicHalo:** You had to watch Ali G in English? You poor child! Man. I would sue the school if that ever happened to me... mental anguish, and all.

**Rinoa/Masuki/Yuna :** I'm glad you liked my last two chappies. And I'm glad you're a Final Fantasy fan. I remember my phase of Final Fantasyness.... best I don't get into that...

**AmethystHannah:** I'm so glad you find the word 'intercourse' amusing... hahahaha, it always cracks me up. Needless to say, Sex Ed is always delightfully entertaining for me. ;)

**dreamingducky:** Lol, down with Paul? Uh oh... you may not like the up coming couple of chappies then... :)

**SharkFin:** I updated!!! Hahaha, I bet there's a million and one girls out there who wouldn't mind showing Jesse what 'getting some' actually entails.... ;)

**gator:** Thanks! Hope you like this (short) chappie!

**tt:** hahaha, you said 'movel-lengthy.' I'm sure you meant 'novel.' But I prefer movel.

**Oenone:** Sooooooooooorry I've taken so long to update!!!

**Nice Hayley:** Hahaha, I lub Adam and CeeCee stuff aussi!

**Pink-Raven:** Lol, one talented little girl? Thanks... I think. Although, 'little'? I CAN'T HELP IT IF I'M SHORT! :)

**Sandra Rose:** Again, sorry I took so long to update!!! :)

**moovalous3:** Lol, I don't think 'twizzled' is a word... but most of the words I use aren't....

**Athena884:** Uh oh.... I warn now, there is no Paul in this chappie.... PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!

**beka:** Sorry took so long to update! :)

**soin2jesse:** Here is the more you asked for...

**Gen. Kenobi:** Ok, 1) I'm sorry, there is no Paul in this chappie 2) This chappie is short ... runs

**xxreixx:**Glad you enjoyed my last 2 chappies!!! :)

**x0SweEtkIssEzxO:** Hehehe, I think I prefer the word intercourse to sex. Don't ask me why. :)

**Naomi:** Lol, what, exactly, am I meant to publish? My autobiography? HAHAHAHA! :)

**rockontracy:** DUDE!!!! You're basically from Carmel!!!!!!! AAAAAAAH!!!! How coollllllllllio! :))))

**poodly:** I lub your name!!! :)

**ShadowQuirk:** Hehehe, watch as I turn all ye Suze-Jesse lubbers into Suze-Paul lubbers... Oh, the power... :)

**Chiltonchick333:** Aww, aren't you sweet? Have a bonbon :)

**Sorry it's taken so long to update, guys. I am truly, truly sorry. I have been trying so hard to squeeze something out, but my Muse has actually taken a runner (if seen, please call 1-800-DAMN-U-MUSE). I also forgot to wish you all a Happy Crimbo!!! Or happy Holiday. Whatever. So yeah. !!!! :) **

**Sorry this chappie is so short, too. Like I said, my Muse is somewhere out there, buying candy and drinking Lucazade. **

**Also, mucho thanks (STILL) for those reviews for VPL. You dudes crack me up. And thanks for the GREAT feedback for Dead On Arrival. **

**You guys are the best! (If a little scary sometimes...)**

**Oh, oh! And Anna Suswillo; muchas gracias!!! Glad to know you're still kicking ass...**

* * *

Even though I was sort of weirded out from the conversation I'd had with Jesse about 'getting some' we fully managed to talk about more…_normal_ things on the way home, while I skillfully managed to avid any mention of Paul and certain _spine-tingling, lip-melting kisses_.

All in all I'd say I gave off the essence of a young and innocent teenage girl, not one who'd previously had a very un-boyfriend-like tongue in her mouth. Jesse suspected _nada_.

When we finally got home and I jogged up the stairs to my room (Jesse was already there by the time I'd reached my room) I found the big black book Paul and I had 'borrowed' from Father D's office sitting seemingly innocuously on my bed. But to me, it was worse than the demon dog omen people see in Harry Potter.

Jesse was stood frowning over it. When my chirpy footfalls stopped abruptly, he looked up with the frown still firmly in place on his forehead. "What is this, _querida_?"

I took a step toward the book; feeling compelled to do so, as if drawn by an invisible force, and stared at the words that gleamed maliciously at me.

Words that hadn't been there when I'd first seen the book.

Although, it had been dark when we'd acquired the book. Still…

"_The Book of the Dead…_" Jesse read.

I continued to stare.

And then I reached out – again, that invisible force was playing with me – and flipped open the cover. "_…to be read by the Living_," I whispered, staring at the words that, in stark contrast to the gold leaf writing on the cover, were black and twisted in ugly ways, like a Calligrapher had taken a turn to the Dark Side in the midst of writing it.

Which I suspected might have been partly true.

I bent closer to the book and peered at the words, gasping in shock when I saw the ink wasn't black at all, in fact, it might not have been ink.

Revulsion tossed my stomach and roiled through me.

My finger traced the word _Living_, "Blood…"

"Susannah, what is this?"

I started in surprise at Jesse's voice and yanked my finger away from the writing. "It's a book that Paul and I found, one that might help us solve Paul's problem."

The ghost of a frown passed over Jesse's face but his features remained tenaciously expressionless.

I turned back to the book. It was really creeping me out. I could almost hear it breathing my name, and that invisible force was growing stronger and stronger, an inexorable pressure building up inside of me as I continued refusing to comply.

Until that pressure grew too strong. I all but leapt onto the bed and gently turned the book to face me. Jesse came to peer over my shoulder.

I licked suddenly dry lips and, with a trembling hand, turned the first page.

To be honest, all I expected to see was a contents page or something like that.

Maybe a dedication? _This one's for you, Mom._ It could happen.

Instead was something that sent shivers dancing down my spine. I quickly turned the page to see the same things written there. Forcefully and with fear igniting quickly inside of me I turned the pages faster and faster, flipping through chunks of the books at once in a desperate attempt to see something else written on the crispy parchment that spoke of generations passed.

But it was futile.

"_Querida…"_

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to see past the fog of confusion that was hanging in my mind. This made no sense. Why would someone make a book like this?

On every page, in the dead centre, written in the same font, same color, was the single, deadly word, _Living._

_Living, Living, Living, Living, Living…_

It was like the book was actively accusing me, or Jesse, bitterness spilling from every page, every word, every letter.

"I don't…" I cleared my throat in a bid to get rid of the breathy quality of it, "I don't understand... it's supposed to _help_ me. It's supposed to be like… I dunno. Like the Book of Magic from _Charmed_, or something. Why would someone do…this?"

I stared at Jesse hopelessly, but soon my gaze returned to the book. It went beyond the boundaries of creepy.

It wasn't until later that night, when I was sat up in bed, still trying to get to sleep, and still staring at the big black book, that I tried again.

The book, I mean. My hands suddenly snatched forward and slid the book across the covers from my feet into my lap. To say I was only slightly surprised would be a _lie_. The fact that my hands were acting like Thing from _The Addams Family_ was unsettling.

And then do you know what they were doing? My hands, not _The Addams Family_. They were actually hovering over the book, as if… I don't know. As if they wanted to open the book up.

Which was proven a second later when my fingers gripped the edges of the thick, scaly leather cover in a vice-like assault.

In contrast to the vicious hold I had on the book, my hands peeled it open surprisingly gently.

And this time?

This time, the book was different.

The pages, the words, even the dark aura it emanated like a flock of screaming midnight-black bats in the twilight of the day.

If I hadn't known better, I would have said it was a completely different book.

But I did know better.

And I knew this book was the same one I had stared at in awe and horror only hours ago.

Again, there was no contents page, and no dedication. But there wasn't the blood red scrawl that sent heavy curls of dread to ring through my body.

In the same scrawl and color was a verse written in the centre of the very first page. A warning and a welcoming at the same time. The delicious flicks and twists of the antique font seemed to spill foreboding, and the tantalizing '…' at the end had me licking my suddenly parched lips.

'_For those who live with powers strong_

_With the gift of time and life of long_

_For those with a knowledge needed to sate_

_Turn the pages and learn your fate…'_


	22. Poetry 101

_**I'M BACK!**_

**Yes, it is me! I'm back to finish what I started...**

**First, though: an apology. I am SO SORRY, it took so long to get this up. It's been a busy, busy year of joy, sadness, exams, new experiences and, overall, ONE HUGE WRITER'S BLOCK.**

**But it's OVER. For this story, at least. **

**I also wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews I've continued to get. I can't do what I usually do and list all you guys with a personal note, because that would take me at least a year to do so. **

**So instead, THANK YOU, you guys are all so funky and great and fantabulous and fantastical and wondifferous, and I lub you all.**

**This is for Anna Suswillo: LARA SUSWILLO LARA SUSWILLO LARA SUSWILLO. LARA SUSWILLO.**

**Hehehe. Now you're not alone, Joyce.**

**Enjoy, guys. It's not particularly long, funny or exciting, but I'm hoping that will come later.**

**Bon appetit**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

* * *

__Well,_ I thought, _there you have it. The brothers Grimm missed out on something here._

I mean, seriously. '_Turn the pages and learn your fate…_' Bit heavy, really.

And who are they – whoever 'they' is…or are…or were…or was…whatever – to tell me what to do. What if I learn my fate…and ignore it? Then what? Huh? Waste of time, if you thought about it. Imagine if I _wasn't_ a Mediator – Shifter – and I just happened upon this book?

However, just as I thought that thought, a breeze fluttered in through my open window, seemingly blown in from the tingling stars I could see scattered across the ink canvas sky, and the page with the scrawled verse lifted.

So much for '_Turn the pages…'_

On the next page was another short verse and I couldn't help but hope it didn't go on like this throughout the whole book. It was a waste of paper, for one thing. And for another, it was kind of annoying. I can barely handle Robert Burns let alone this amateur limerick…

'_Only ye with life and beat_

_Can continue with your wizenin' read_

_Only ye with blood so pure_

_May read your Destiny and Lore_

Another breeze, this time much stronger, rushed in through the window and blew the page over.

"Cliché much…" I muttered, and smoothed the newly exposed page. This time there was a picture.

A woman – a female at least, she looked kind of young to be classified as a woman – had been drawn standing in the centre of the page. Her posture screamed out 'Xena: Warrior Princess' with her stance defensive and sturdy; shoulders back; chin tilted up stubbornly; one hand fisted and the other held slightly to the side and behind, fingers splayed and palm down turned. Even her eyes were challenging, green and searing, seemingly coming right out of the page to pin me down.

Her hair was chestnut and swishing out to one side, the long tresses flung out like hundreds of fingers all reaching towards some invisible thing in the margin. It made the girl look as though she'd just spun round and stopped, ready to attack again.

Her whole aura was active; wary; tense and ready to go at the slightest twitch. The 2D image impossibly projected a tension like that of a coiled spring trembling with energy that had nowhere to go but outwards and upwards.

So perhaps this was why my eyes were irrevocably drawn to the image painted with delicate detail so intricate and tiny it was like magic. On the girl's left shoulder sat a cat. Calm and still, sat in usual cat form with its head high, front legs straight and back legs firmly bracketing its front ones. Its tail was curled around the girl's shoulder and the tip of it came to a rest where, on a living person, the girl's heart would be. The drawing had managed to capture the ineffable essence of regality that a cat wrapped itself in like an ubiquitous blanket of poise and etiquette and royalty.

With the girl's electricity, the black, sleek cat's serenity was a stark contrast, but one that seemed befitting. It felt as though, if I erased that cat from the picture, the scene wouldn't be right.

It would be like Mona Lisa without her smile.

The cat's eyes, like the girl's, sparkled emerald and held a glint of danger and warning; a wariness that any battle-plagued soldier carried.

I shook myself. Dear God! It was only a picture. But no matter how much I scorned myself for getting lost in a sea of awe because of some stupid cartoon… I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Because the closer I looked, the closer I saw the resemblance to…well, to me.

Stupid, huh? But every detail, every feature, was what I saw every morning when I got up and beautified myself for school. Not just the obvious features – the green eyes and chestnut hair, but the lesser ones that only a mother would notice about their child, or a lover about their partner.

For example, the tiny freckle I have on the side of my nose that makes look as though I've got a nose piercing. Or the tiny scar on the middle top knuckle on my right hand that I got from a rather long-stretched fight where I managed to wear away several layers of skin after quite a few roundhouse punches.

Both those imperceptible facets were sketched onto the figure staring so blazingly at me from the crisp, aged parchment.

And suddenly the book wasn't quite so clichéd as I originally thought.

An enquiring meow sliced through the air and I jumped back from the book, where it fell from my fingers and bounced on the bed viciously and landed precariously on the edge.

I looked down to my side of the bed and saw Spike perched innocently on the floor, gazing up at me with big yellow eyes.

"Meow?"

I eased a sigh and my heart's heavy thudding recessed. "Are you trying to kill me at an early age, Spike? Because I'm the only who feeds you and cares for you, you big dumb ginger sack of cra-"

Spike sneezed and, clearly bored with my human whining, yawned an impossibly long and huge yawn, his little pink tongue curling in on itself, seemingly carrying the essence of scorn on it.

He finished his yawn and blinked up at me, then picked himself up and padded contentedly away to the open window, where he hopped up onto my window seat, onto the window ledge, and, with one last glance at me, hopped away into the night.

I stared, eyebrows raised, at where Spike had gone. _Huh_, I thought. _He didn't even scratch my skin off for food_.

A dull thump brought me back to my senses and I realized the book had tumbled from the bed and onto the floor. I crawled across the bed and leaned down, unceremoniously yanking the book up by its spine and plonking it down in my lap.

The front cover fell away from the book and a few other pages were dragged away. They settled down and left me with another page to view.

This time there was another picture – one I recognized. It was the same one that appeared every time I had my tarot cards read. It was the Mediator. The old man with the lantern glowing in the dark.

Underneath this drawing was scrawled:

_A god's strength, a king's wealth,_

_A pharaoh's power in thyself._

_A pirate's heart, a lion's greed,_

_Darkness, madness: a mind too weak._

_If of mind noble and strong_

_If of true words and tongue_

_If of heart warm and red_

_A righteous divinity lies ahead._

This time, I actually stopped and considered the words. I only did this because the picture, though familiar to the ones on those cursed tarot cards, was different. This time, the frail and wizened old man looked a heck of a lot like Dr Slaski. And I was beginning to see a pattern.

"_A god's strength, a king's wealth, A pharaoh's power in yourself"_? That's pretty much what Dr Slaski was prepared for when he got into this Shifting business. He even told me once he thought he _was_ a god. _"A pirate's heart, a lion's greed, Darkness, madness: a mind too weak."_ Dr Slaski had warned me about that too – how power can go to your head. As it had done to him. And look how he ended up – with people thinking he was mad while whittling his days away in a wheelchair. Because he was too weak to fight against the powers of…power.

Or maybe all those English analytical-poetry classes were going to my head.

Whatever. My bones were rattling along to _Shiver Me Timbers_ and it wasn't a pleasant sensation.

I flipped the page, hoping there may have been something a bit lighter there, maybe a couple of unicorns? The lyrics to Britney Spears' _Toxic_?

Only I should have known that a book which could seemingly change its font to _blood_ wouldn't have any sense of pop culture or niceties.

My heart slammed against my rib cage with a force that sent me choking when I saw the latest drawing.

A guy; dark hair; dark clothes; dark smile. But eyes so light and clear it was like the maker(s) of the book had taken a piece of the sky and somehow stuck it onto the page. The figure was stood defiantly, with broad shoulders squared, as if he was trying to stare whoever was reading the book down. His long legs were shoulder width apart, soft leather boot toes pointed to each bottom corner of the page. His trousers were tucked into the boots, and as dark as them.

His shirt was garnet color and it took me a while to realize why it freaked me out so much – it was almost the same color as the blood writing. Black buttons tracked up the centre, holding it together. The left side of the shirt was tucked into his trousers, but on the right the pointed tip was left out, flapping up in an invisible wind to reveal a small portion of flat abdomen.

The guy's chin was tilted up stubbornly, and he looked down his nose with a devil-may-care attitude. One corner of his sultry mouth tipped up in an ironic fashion, laughing at something that wasn't meant to be laughed at. His aquiline nose had one disjoint in it, near the bridge, where it veered slightly to the left, like it had been broken in a punch-up. Slashes of black made up his eyebrows, straight and bold, casting a faint shadow over the hood of his eyes.

My eyes got snagged on the drawing's again. There was something so familiar, so haunting about them…I dragged my gaze up to the figure's hair. Curly, the same brown as his boots, and with a soft sheen that spoke of silkiness. My finger trailed over separate curls and I almost felt the gentle spring of a lock of hair bowing under the pressure of the tip of my finger.

I spent a while studying the guy. He looked menacing and evil but I wondered why I wasn't frightened or intimidated by it. Then again, it was only a drawing…

It was then that I noticed his hands. Kind of strange that I didn't before, cos a guy's hands are what I look at first. After his eyes, of course. His left arm was held straight down his side, the red cuff of his shirt hanging open and wide. His actual hand was facing palm inwards, so I could only see the back of his hand, with light veins snaking between the bones of his fingers. The fingers themselves were bent at the tips, cradling something out of view that was being held steady by his thumb, which curved inwards to his palm.

Stupidly, I moved my head at different angles to try to get a better view of what might have been behind his arm.

There was a reason I skipped art class.

I frowned in frustration and was just about to look away in defeat when I saw something. A silver something, small and pointy, just peeking out from behind the inside of his arm, halfway up to the elbow. I peered closer and saw it: a knife point. The peak of a sharp, sleek, sparkling dagger. I looked down at his hand and this time saw more: the handle of the dagger, an ivory handle with swirling carvings and embossments.

And suddenly his eyes seemed brighter than before, the sky blue darkening like a summer storm.

His other arm was hanging loose in comparison to his carefully held left arm. Carelessness emanated from that limb like a stream trickling down it. Indifference hung to the very tips of his fingers like heavy icicles weighing them down. And dangling precariously from those fingertips was a glass bottle. Actually, it was like the measuring cylinders we used at the Mission during Chemistry, with the wide circular base that pyramided up to form a lip like a tulip opening up. Except instead of a small hole at the top, there was a cork, shoved deep into the glass, effectively sealing it off.

The glass itself was cobalt blue, transparent but distorting that image that was drawn inside of the bottle, blurring the object trapped inside.

Although the harder I strained my eyes, the more convinced I became that there wasn't actually a distinguished item to see, it was more like a glowing white form, almost human-shaped, but with no details, no features. A mass of pure white light, trapped inside the dingy green glass.

And then, for a split-second – so fast I'm pretty sure I imagined it; I must have – the white form seemed to glow so brightly, and something struck my heart like lightning. Then it was over, and I was left with a slightly breathless sensation, and an incredibly furrowed brow.

But I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that was suddenly shrouding me.

What did it all mean? _What did it all mean?_ And why did I have to be a part of it?

I remember when breaking and entering to steal dead people's most treasured possessions had seemed like child's play compared to this. It suddenly seemed as if a new door had opened to me with shadows hiding the opportunities that were waiting for me to come to them.

I shut the book suddenly, finding I didn't want to look at it anymore. Finding I didn't want to discover what it all meant.

Call me crazy, but I was scared by a _book_. True, the idea of reading my way through _Moby Dick_ for English class had made my stomach clench with disgust. But this was different. This was genuine terror.

"Urgh. What is wrong with me?" I threw the book on the floor and then threw myself backwards on my bed with disgust. After staring at the ceiling for a few restless minutes I sat back up again. "So much for helping me," I said, glowering at the book.

And then another breeze lifted the air in my bedroom, at the same time dropping the temperature, and I heard the sound of the book's heavy front cover as it rose and fell open. The pages flapped, making sharp cracking noises until they stopped, and silence drifted across the room as the breeze departed as quickly as it had come.

With an ice chip in my heart, I crawled across the bed, ignoring the heavy weight of my limbs, and I stared out over the edge of the bed until my eyes dropped to the book.

_When greed twists and greed turns_

_And the power within begins to burn_

_And from it grows a blackened tree_

_With limbs that grab and roots that bury_

_And so the greed and so the power_

_Grow into plants that do not flower_

_Then the seed of this hateful thing_

_Must be punished for his sin_

To say realisation struck would be a lie. What it actually did was unfurl itself slowly inside of me, as though someone had just injected cold water into my veins that was spreading with every accelerated pump of my heart.

On the opposite page of the rhyme was a drawing of a man – the same man with the sky blue eyes and the dagger and the jar – bent backwards in pain, his arms crooked and outstretched with his hands mid-clench. The veins in his arms and neck were bulging with the pain that was etched sharply on his face. The man's knees were bent under the force of it.

And from what I could tell, the source of the pain was the tornado-like blur the illustrator had drawn, originating from the man's heart and spiralling outwards, growing larger as it went.

I stared at that picture for a while, horrified. Was that what was happening to Paul? Was his soul being ripped from his body? Or was that his life, just draining away? What was it? _What did it mean?_

God, this stuff was giving me a headache.

So far I had been told – in a rather evil and malevolent manner – of what was happening to Paul, but there was no sign of a cure. I flipped the page.

Another drawing. My heart plummeted.

This time it was the me look-a-like and the guy, hands braced with each other's in the prayer position, turned to face each other with their eyes closed and faces tilted upwards.

Above them, the sky was pink and yellow before it blended into midnight blue. And in the middle sat a fat circle, out of which a white crescent moon shone and the rest was a cold yellow sun. On the side of the sky with the moon, stars twinkled against the dark, and on the side of the sky with the sun, thin clouds gathered.

It was the two figures' hands that caught my attention, though. Because surrounding them was a subtle glow that had nothing to do with the stars or the moon or the sun painted on the page. And, I was guessing, everything to do with how to cure Paul.

* * *

**Next chappie will be soon, my dudettes of lub. Fear not. Or, depending on you, FEAR IMMENSELY.**

**Mwaw.**

**P.S. Sorry if I made any glaring mistakes or discontinuities. I haven't had a chance to read what I actually wrote previously, cos I was so excited to have enough inspiration trickling through me to write this much. **


	23. If I Was A Car, I'd Be Totaled

**Yoyo! I told y'all to fear not. But did you listen? No. And so ye feared.**

**But here I am, with a thrilling new installment of... what is this again?**

**Anyhoo, I'm really on a roll with this story, so you can expect chappie 24 to be up SOON.**

**Thanks for TODOS los reviews - you guys are fantastical beyond beliefio.**

**Muchas gracias, mis chicas**

* * *

I felt my breathing falter as I looked at the picture. Felt my world tilt as I realised what it meant. What I had known it would always have meant for me.

Before I even read the rhyme on the other page I knew what it would say.

In order to save Paul's life, I would have to sacrifice mine.

That was what the drawing represented. What else could it?

But still I felt some denial flicker inside of me, telling me I was too young to do this, telling me this was all a dream, that it wasn't real. Telling me I didn't have to do this; I had a choice.

I sucked in a deep breath, and those thoughts disappeared. I _did_ have to do this. What right did I have to decide whether or not he died? If it were me in his position, he would sacrifice himself.

Probably.

Not that it mattered. The Good Samaritan didn't pick and choose his people-to-be-saved. Neither did I.

Suddenly, though, it seemed too much for me to handle – Suze the Great, who handled everything so well was caving – and I decided to escape for a while, from it all, just for a little bit.

Climbing to my feet, I hopped off the bed, and climbed out the window without grabbing a jacket to fight off the chill that was setting in.

Without any sense of where I was going, I unerringly headed towards the beach where the gentle lapping of the water against the shore calmed my frazzled nerves and soothed deep inside my mind.

I stared out at the moon reflected in the sea and the stars dotted up above me.

I was in such a heavy blanket of calm that when a voice spoke from beside me I screamed like a banshee and punched the perpetrator in the nose.

"_Jesus Christ, Suze! It's me! Jim! _Probably the _only_ person in this world who _wouldn't_ hurt you!" Jim stared at me from around the hand brutally pinching his nose.

"Oh my God, Jim! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you! Well, obviously I did mean to hit you because I thought you were maybe attacking me or about to attack me and it was really a reflex action but I didn't mean to hit _you_ you." Jim's brow furrowed in confusion. I punched him lightly on the arm in annoyance. "You shouldn't sneak up on people!"

This time he rolled his eyes and snorted. "I didn't _sneak_. I walked and called out your name – _several_ times – and then I reached your side and you broke my nose."

"It's not broken," I said in a babying voice. Then I bit my lip. "Is it?"

Jim shook his head. "Luckily for us guardian angels, we heal easy." So saying, I saw his nose realign itself and the blood disappear from his face.

"Neat trick," I murmured in amazement. Why couldn't I do that?

"Because then you'd turn evil and try to take over the world like Clark Kent in _Superman: The Early Years_. Which reminds me, _why_ are they still making that show? Seriously."

Oh yeah, the whole 'I can read your mind' thing. I scrunched my nose and frowned at Jim. "I would _not_ turn evil." Then I thought about it. An invincible me? Heck yeah, I would. "Meh."

Jim only hummed a little. "So… what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

I rolled my eyes. "Slummin'."

This time Jim rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He slumped down on the sand and stretched himself out into a star position. "Feel like making snow angels?"

I fell down next to him, feeling a little sorry for him if he thought it was snowy. "There's no snow."

"I know _that_. Jeez. What do you think I am, stupid?"

"_No_. But you are part-crazy."

Jim nodded sagely. "True." He patted the sand next to him and I took up the invitation, laying myself out beside him.

We both contemplated the stars for a few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. Or at least, so I thought, until Jim said, "I don't know why you've got all the guys chasing after you, you're possibly the most boring person I've ever met."

"Excuse me?" I said in all my indignation. "I was having a deep and serious moment just then. I can't help it if you're mind is a vacuous void of nothingness!" I rolled onto my side so my back was facing him, and then I huffed.

I closed my eyes and tried to gather the thoughts Jim had successfully wiped from my mind.

When I heard a faint popping sound, I opened my eyes. And damn near screamed.

"Jim! Jeez, _stop it_!"

Jim shrugged from his position on the sand in front of me. "Stop what?"

"Sneaking! Stop with the sneaking. And the popping."

"Sorry," he said, but I didn't think he meant it. Then he popped out of sight and popped back to reality behind my back again.

I rolled over and gave him my most disgusted look. "You are such a jerk. A really immature jerk, you know? I can't believe God would put someone like you on his payroll."

"Ditto, sweet cheeks."

Putting all of my sexism-outrage into my eyes, I glared at him, willing the force of it to burn a whole right between those pretty little eyes of his, like Superman when he feels like burning the bad guys.

Jim only grinned. "I knew that would get you."

"Call me sweet cheeks ever again and _I'll_ get _you_."

"Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty."

"Shut up," I said. Though with a smile. "Jerk." Again, with a smile.

"What are you really doing here, Suze?" Jim asked, his eyes dark and serious and concerned.

It was the concern in them that made me look up at the stars. "I just needed some space. This ghost-busting business isn't as easy as it looks, you know." I threw a quick, careless smile at him, hoping to break up the cloud of sombreness that had settled over us.

Jim blew out a breath. "Trust me, I know."

Oh, yeah. The whole guardian-angel thing. It still got me. All the time I thought I was alone when really there was someone up there to keep a watch on me. Sort of creepy and sort of…nice.

"So the beach is the place to come for escapism?" Jim asked me.

"Yep, pretty much."

"Uh-huh. Now, you feel like telling me what else is going on or are we just going to lie here in silence until you figure out the meaning of life?"

I snuck a peek at him and saw he was doing the same as me – lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, gazing up at the stars. I knew what it meant – his seemingly relaxed posture was supposed to take off any pressure I felt about telling him the truth.

Pretty sneaky. Shame it wouldn't work on me. And strangely, it did feel like a shame. For a girl who has so far grown up all her life without anyone to talk to about anything serious – until Jesse came along, that is – I've grown used to not _wanting_ to talk to anyone about anyone. Hence my mother's constant concern for my future. So it was a bit of a surprise to find that I did want to talk this through with Jim.

But if I did… well, he's my guardian angel, isn't he? His sole purpose in life…or death…or wherever he is at the moment…is to keep me alive.

Therefore I doubt he'd take my sacrifice too well.

Probably he'd get a demotion from the Big Guy Upstairs. Or a clap on the back – let's face it, I can't be God's favourite person on this big earth considering half the sins I've committed. Heck, I've probably even invented a few of my own…

So instead of telling Jim about what was really bothering me – and the fact that he'd be going one-charge-short from now on, I just said, "Lying here sounds good."

And so we did.

I don't know how long we laid there in the sand, but I figured it would be a good time to start moving when I felt the sea tickling the toes of my Converse sneakers.

Dusting the sand from my clothes – how does it manage to get _everywhere_, even when you're not _doing_ anything? – I stood up and watched Jim crack one lazy eye open to watch me.

"I'm gonna head back home now, before the sea swallows me whole." On this thought, I looked wistfully out to said body of water. It sure would solve my righteous problems…

Nah. Too easy. And too wet.

Jim saluted me. "I think I'll stay here and commune with the whales for a bit."

I backed away a little. "O-kay…That's cool with me. I'll just…go." And so saying, I pumped my legs as fast as I could go in the opposite direction, ignoring the laughter I could hear drifting past me.

God may have picked him for 'special duties', but that didn't mean he couldn't have been a little bit crazy. Or even, a big bit crazy.

As I was walking off, a thought did occur to me. Why did Jim want to talk, when he could just as easily read my mind? I stopped walking. Did that mean he already knew what I was planning on doing?

Then again, how could he know, when I barely knew myself?

The sun was beginning to rise as I walked back home and I slowed my pace to enjoy the unusual feeling of being out at odd hours for non-violent reasons. It was quite refreshing. Carmel looked peaceful and quiet, serene. It was…nice.

Kind of helpful in forgetting that my death might be approaching within the following 24 hours. If Paul was right when he said he had 2 days left before he completely died, then today was judgement day.

I arrived at my house and climbed the porch, crawling through the window and flopping onto my bed with the grace of an old decrepit man dancing. In other words; none.

"Okay," I murmured to myself, "what's the plan, genius?"

Well, first things first, I had to figure out exactly what needed to be done. For that, I would need a fellow mediator. One with experience.

Dr Slaski seemed like the perfect option.

But first…a little beauty sleep was in order. What? Just cos a girl's got to be a sacrifice doesn't mean she can't primp for it. I wanted to look my best for when God granted me with sainthood…

Yeah, and Madonna's gonna realize she's not 22 years old anymore.

Still, I had to pretend I hadn't been walking on the beach at the crack of dawn when my mom came in to wake me for school.

A little piece of ice seemed to pierce my heart at that. _Mom._ What was I going to tell her? How was she going to react?

And what about Doc? Or Andy? Or Father Dom? Or…oh, God, Jesse.

I knew how Jesse was going to react. Which is why I was _not_ going to tell him what was going down tonight. Although tears stung my eyes at the thought, I stubbornly blinked them away, and then fell into a fitful sleep.

"Suze? Susie? Wake up, sweetie. It's a beautiful day…You don't want to be late for school."

I grunted to my mom and rolled over to my other side. Then I groaned and smushed my face into my pillow.

"Mom! Close the curtains!"

Her answer was to tug the covers away from me. I curled up even tighter. "Get up, lazybones."

I merely grunted again.

"Don't make me get Spike to wake you up."

Now _that _had me bolting upright. When Spike was an alarm clock, he left no skin intact. "I'm awake! I swear, I'm awake! Jeez, mom, I never thought you'd turn to child abuse."

Mom smiled innocently. "As you're always reminding, Susie, you're not a child anymore."

I stuck my tongue out at her in my I'm-an-adult response.

She turned her back to leave my room when I remembered my plans for this evening. It's amazing, how heavily being a martyr can sit on your mind. "Hey, mom?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

I swallowed the itchy ball that was forming in my throat. "I love you, you know."

Mom smiled. "I know. I love you too, honey." She turned to go again.

"And Andy!" I said, trying to convey, without being too obvious about my impending death, how important it was that she understood how serious I was being. "I love Andy too. I never told you, but he's a great stepdad, and I couldn't have picked anyone better for you to have married. I'm so glad you're happy, mom."

This time I couldn't hide the tears in my eyes and mom frowned in concern.

"Are you okay, Susie? What's brought all this on?"

"Oh, you know." I sniffled. "I watched one of those Danielle Steele movies and it made me realize how fragile life can be." Because mom still looked dubious, I added, "And how powerful the bond of love can be." I shook my head solemnly. "It's amazing what the heart can endure for the sake of love…"

Mom reached over and patted my head. "It's just a movie, sweetie." She gave me another concerned look. "Maybe you should just stick with those action movies in the future." And then she left.

I sucked in a breath. "What future?" I whispered to myself.

And then I did what all good Mediators do. I made myself look good. I picked out one of my nicest outfits – my Abercrombie and Fitch green vintage knit tee and my Urban Outfitters plaid pleat skirt, all set off nicely with my Steve Madden Lipstik ankle boots – and then made my face up with my kick-ass Estée Lauder Pure Color lip gloss.

With one pout in the mirror, I looked and felt ready to take on the world.

First, though, I had to take on Sister Ernestine.

After gliding down the stairs waiting for my slow-mo moment to arise like in the movies – if Rachel Leigh Cook can get a slow-mo moment in _She's All That_ after all she did was let her hair down and pluck her eyebrows, I think I deserved one for turning Suze Simon into Suze Simon uber-babe – I opened the front door and then jumped to the side to let Dopey – Brad, I mean – get through. "Ladies first," I muttered.

He grunted then yelled into the house, "David, get your puny butt down here or I'll leave without you."

I sneered in disgust at Brad's back as he opened the door to the car and heaved himself in.

As I let myself into the passenger seat, a horrifying thought struck me: who would take care of Doc when I was gone?

Brad barely even remembered he had a little brother, how could he possibly protect David from the dangers of the world? Not that Brad even _knew_ about the dangers of the world – all he thought about was beer and babes and his bulging muscles.

Ew, gross.

Now Brad I was _not _going to miss. Not him, his friends, or his smells. Seriously, a little cologne – heck, even a _shower_ – every now and then wouldn't hurt.

Don't think I'm heartless. He's my stepbrother, and I'd protect him from anything if I had to. But he is a selfish, smelly jock. And so on principle, I had to hate him.

I probably would miss Jake, if only for his ferrying me about whenever I needed. He had never done anything to particularly bug me, but it's not like he'd done anything to please me. Still, he could be nice; whenever he was awake enough to try.

David climbed into the car and Brad immediately shot out of the driveway. We got to school and Brad jumped out instantly, tapping his foot in a futile effort to hurry Doc and I out. I shot Doc a glance in the rearview mirror and shared an eye roll with him, then climbed out.

"See you losers at the end of the day. Don't be late." Brad had already started walking away when he said this, so he missed the bird I flipped at his back.

Doc called out a See you later and I watched him go, wishing I could hug him to me and squeeze him tight. Instead I watched him walk into school, suddenly feeling like a mom when she waves her son off for his first day at school.

I turned to follow him and crashed straight into a lean, tall male body.

Large hands clasped my shoulders and held me upright.

"Hey Suze," Adam said once he'd set me on my feet again.

"Adam. How's it going?"

Adam looked down at his feet and heaved a sigh before collapsing against the side of the car. "It's CeeCee. I think she might be dying."

_That_ got my attention. "_What?_"

Adam looked at me and I was surprised to see genuine fear in his eyes. "Remember yesterday at school when she flipped out at me for no reason?" I refrained from correcting him by telling him _he _was the reason for being such a _jackass_. "And that evening I called her and she told me she had more important things to worry about than me and then she hung up me. And then this morning I rang her and she told me to drop dead and then hung up on me. So I figure, she's got an incurable disease or something."

I stared in bemusement and tried to figure out the twisted, convoluted workings of Adam's mind that got him from CeeCee ignoring him to CeeCee dying.

"Adam, CeeCee is not suffering from an incurable disease."

Adam's eyes lit up. "You mean it's _curable_? Oh, thank God! Thank. You. God!" He leapt upright and threw his hands up to the sky.

I punched his arm. "She doesn't have _any_ type of disease, you dumb ass. She's ignoring you because for the past half a decade she has been madly in love with you – though, for what reason, I have no idea because as far as I can see you're pathologically _stupid_ – and all the while you have ignored her and gone chasing skirts while she's sat at home wishing you were chasing her."

Adam's brow furrowed as he looked at me. "CeeCee doesn't wear skirts."

"_That is not the point!_" This time I threw my hands to the sky. I rounded on Adam and from the way he cringed backwards, there must have been murder in my eyes. "CeeCee _loves_ you, you monkey-brained _ass_. She is fed up of waiting for you to come to your senses and make some move – _any_ move – about it. So if you don't do something – _fast_ – you will lose her. You will lose her friendship, you will lose her companionship, you will lose her _love_. And then you will realize how _big_ a loser you really are."

I glared at Adam to make sure the point hit home.

Adam's eyes dropped from mine and stared mindlessly at my midriff.

"CeeCee loves me," he whispered.

I nodded. "Yes, she does. But she is fully capable of loving someone else," Adam scowled at that, "of loving someone who loves her back. Because that is the very least that CeeCee deserves." This time Adam flinched.

"I didn't realize."

Because he sounded so shocked and a little ashamed, I touched my hand to his sagging shoulder. "I know. And that's what hurt her the most. You haven't seen her – haven't _looked_ at her properly all these years you've been friends."

Adam swallowed and nodded and I saw his eyes glisten with tears.

Then he cleared his throat. "I need to do some thinking," was all he said before he walked purposefully toward the school.

I stood for a few moments watching him before shaking my head.

Man, I was going to miss finding out how that all turned out in the end.

Shame I had an appointment with the Big Dude first.

The rest of the day passed without incident – no visits from Paul, none from Jesse, none from any ghosts at all. It was the last period when I decided it was time I faced Father Dom, and so I excused myself from English (I had 'lady problems' and needed to visit the nurse – I was so out of there with no problems) and shuffled my feet in the direction of Dom's office.

When I knocked on his door I felt my heart stutter. When he called out a "Come in!" I felt it damn well stop in my chest.

He smiled when he saw me then frowned in concern. "Are you alright, Susannah?"

"Actually, no. I'm half left." I grinned, trying to lighten my mood with a bit of humor.

Father Dom didn't laugh. I resisted rolling my eyes at his seriousness. "I just wanted to let you know…"

Now, here was the thing: did I tell Father Dom the truth, or not? I figured…not. He would probably freak and tell my parents. But then again, would he just let Paul die?

I sucked in a deep breath. "I just wanted you to let you know that I think I might have found a way to get Paul back to normal." I saw Father Dom's eyes light up. "But I'm not sure," I hurriedly added, "so don't get your hopes up. I thought I'd inform you of my progress and tell you…Thanks. For all your help over the past year or two. I couldn't have done it without you. So…thank you. You helped me understand who I am and what I am, and that meant – that _means_ a lot to me."

For the hundredth time today I felt my throat clog with tears. "Just to let you know," I whispered. "See you."

I left the office with Father Dom doing a pretty good fish impression.

The final bell rang and I walked out of school, casting it one last glance once I'd reached the car. I spotted Cee walking out and lifted my hand to give her a wave, then dropped my hand when I saw Adam running breathlessly up to her. I watched as she turned and listened to whatever Adam was talking reverently about.

Then Brad arrived and Doc arrived and interrupted my viewing.

"Ready to go, Suze?" Doc asked.

"I've got to go somewhere before I go home. So tell mom I'll be back later."

Brad grunted – big surprise – and got in the car, but Doc eyed me suspiciously. "Where are you going?"

I stared blankly at him while my brain tried to conjure up a suitable story. "Paul's," I said, deciding the truth was usually easier to twist than a whole new story. "I'm going to go round to Paul's. We found out his…_thing_…" I raised my eyebrows in significance and Doc's rose in sympathy with mine, "has a time-limit, so he'll be appearing back in full form tonight. I want to be there when he does in case anything goes wrong."

Doc nodded in understanding. "What do you want me to tell mom?"

See? This is why I love the little guy so much. "Just tell her I've gone round to CeeCee's to study." Then I thought. "Actually, tell her I'll be sleeping round at Cee's. It's Saturday tomorrow, so she shouldn't have that big a problem."

Doc's eyes grew large. "You mean you're going to _stay the night_ at _Paul's_?"

"No!" My eyes grew bigger than Doc's. "No, I just mean that I don't know how long it'll take for him to…reappear, so I can't tell mom a guaranteed time I'll be back."

I didn't mention that I wouldn't actually be coming back. Ever. I had to go say my goodbyes to Dr Slaski, but after that I didn't think I'd be able to handle going back home and acting like everything was normal. Acting like it wasn't my last day on earth.

But Doc didn't need to know that, and the story I'd fed him was clearly all he needed for reassurance. "See you tomorrow then, Suze." He had his hand on the door handle for the car before he turned back to me and said, "Just remember: safe sex is the only sex you should have." With a satisfied nod, he opened the door, got in, and I was still gaping like the village idiot as he drove away out of the car park.

Safe sex with Paul? I didn't want to go there. Where I did want to go was his house, though.

It was time I paid a visit to his grandpops.

It was a long walk, but I figured I could use the time to sort out my affairs – at least in my head. Like, who would look after Spike when I was gone? Sure, he was a shedding, ginger, über-pain in the ass, but he was still my pet. Doc would hopefully take care of him.

These sorts of thoughts occupied me all the way to Paul's giant greenhouse so when I arrived I was feeling a little glum, until I saw Dr Slaski's nurse and his big, contagious smile.

"Suze! Long time no see. How's it going? Are you here to see Paul or Dr Slater?" I opened my mouth to tell him Dr Slater but clearly he had more to say. "Because I must tell you, Paul hasn't been around lately. No. For the past few days he's been…gone! It's upset Dr Slater no end."

This time I made sure he'd finished before I began speaking. "Is that right?" I feigned surprise, sounding pretty convincing for someone who'd had no acting lessons. "Kids these days, eh?" I shook my head sagely. "Luckily I'm here to see Dr Slas- I mean, Dr Slater."

"Come in, then. Come in. He's sat in his TV room watching _General Hospital_. It's one of his favourites."

I smiled. "Understandably."

He waved me into the house. "I'll leave you two alone while I go make him his lunch."

"Ok, sure. I won't be very long; I'm not a great conversationalist." I waited for a smile to let me know he got the joke, but I think the irony was lost on him. With a cough, I let myself into the TV room. "Yo, Doc Slask." I dragged a chair round to face him. "Thought I'd pop in to let you know I'll be heading off my mortal coil tonight, and I wanted to say goodbye."

I watched as Paul's grandfather's eyes – normally unfocused – suddenly centered in on me like a shark detecting its prey.

"What?" His usually blurred speech (when he spoke at all) was as sharp as his eyes.

I gave a nonchalant shrug that I didn't feel in my heart. "Oh, you know. The usual story. Girl meets guy, guy uses voodoo magic to turn himself into a semi-ghost, girl sacrifices herself to save guy. Your typical teen lifestyle."

"I told you to leave that grandson of mine alone, Susannah. I told you he was bad news."

I waved that comment aside. "I know, I know. But I've got to, really. What kind of human being would I be if I just left him to…vanish?"

Dr Slaski's hand lashed out and locked onto mine, holding in a surprisingly firm grip that tugged me towards him. "Listen to me, girl. _You can't let yourself do this_. You have a chance to put many wrongs in this world right. You have the heart to do it. _Don't throw it all away_." His crystal clear blue eyes searched mine frantically, as if he could find something to convince me not to do what I had to do.

"It's too late, Dr Slaski. I found the Book of the Dead – it _told_ me my destiny was in that book and what I read was what I have to do tonight. I know what I have to do. If I didn't follow it through, I would never be able to live with the guilt. Or live with myself."

Dr Slaski stared intently at me for a minute before he let go of my hand with a softly murmured, "Damn it."

"I came round here to tell you goodbye, Dr Slaski. And thanks for all your help." I wisely ignored his snort.

I stood to go.

Dr Slaski grabbed my wrist again and dragged me down until I was eye level with him. Then his shaking, bony hands reached up and cradled my head. "Stupid, stupid girl," he whispered, then planted a hard kiss on my forehead.

I felt tears sting my eyes and was about to draw back when I heard him muttering under his breath.

"Wha-?" I had barely got the question out when all of sudden my heart seemed to slow, and my eyesight dimmed. I felt my lids go heavy as the desperate urge to sleep slammed into me. Distantly, I heard Dr Slaski still muttering, his lips brushing my forehead with every word he said.

And then he let go of my head and I heard him say, "Goodbye from me, Susannah." I never noticed that his breathing was shallower; his voice raspier than normal, as if something had been drained from him.

Instead I nodded, not really understanding what was going on, or where I was, through the thick fog inside my head, and I walked out the door.

I heard the nurse call out a goodbye but my lips were too lax for me to form any words and so I simply walked out of the house into the dazzling sunlight, blinking the fog from my mind.

"What the hell was that?" I wondered.

* * *

**Again, not one of the most thrilling chappies in the story, BUT VAIR VAIR IMPORTANT!**

**And also thought I'd do something about the Adam-CeeCee situation. BUT HOW WILL IT ALL END?**

**With death, I assure you.**

**Just kidding. Or am I...?**


	24. Just Call Me Dr Strangelove

**GOOD MAWNIN' FANFICTION!**

**Or rather, good evening - maybe even good night - because it's 21:59 where I am at the mo (Ongland)**

**MESSY BUCKETS to TOUTES mes reviewers for your lub - j'appreciate it beaucoup.**

**Now, for all those lubberly reviews to whom I can't reply via the wonders of email, this one's for you:**

**Lane: Aloha, new reader! Thank you for bringing bubbles of delight to my blood (sounds icky, but I swear it's nice) for your splendiferous comment! I do try to add a little dash of everything to the fic because all you readers are so greedy for some spice - and I lub it. As for the Romeo and Juliet ending to the Adam-CeeCee sitch... well, I shall consider it, though I'm not sure I could break all those die-hard fans' hearts out there. ;)**

**aD3LiN3: J'apologise for the lack of Paul-age in the previous chappie, HOWEVER, je promise that next chappie - thar be Paul-age. So far no naked Paul, but I'll see what I can wrangle... oo-er, missus ;)**

**Lolly Pop Ali: It seems every time I log on to Fanfic, you have a new, funkalicious name :) I SO know what you mean about disliking lengthy descriptions - it was the main reason it took me, like, a year to post that chappie, because I really hated that all it was was description. But then I got some _cojones_, and up it went, and now it's over, I'm done with it, that chappie and I are THROUGH, man! So yeah, I'm glad it wasn't as crapola as I thought. Lol. As for the rhyming - I've had some scary moments with that. Like, trying to rhyme 'power' with 'wower'. Somehow, I DON'T think so. ;)**

**leftbackrunner77: You have a psycho pup? Seriously, I need to find something with a matching nutso-ness. As for the crazy sister - meh, she can easily be bound and gagged in a closet somewhere... :) In Engerland, it WAS verra hot, but the storm has broken and now it's cold and rainy and windy. I've seen small children drifting about the sky like plastic bags which, while terribly hilarious, is potentially dangerous. And if you mention that you have your own swimming pool again, you will have to be destroyed to curb my insane jealousy. As formyself, I have 16 years of age - soon to be 17 on the 18th Sep, so I'm waltzing around the house singing that much-lubbed song from _Sound of Music_ 'I am 16 going on 17' except that's the only line I know. I also have uno bro, and he is 19 and goes to Uni. I like to call him Dumbass, cos if you say it quickly enough it sounds like you are actually calling him by his real name Thomas. And it's great because nothing rhymes with Emily (Smemily or Smellily does so not count) so therefore I win. As usual. Tom rides a motorbike like a bat out of hell, as does the rest of ma famille, and as I will in Septemberie. How terribly exciting! ;)**

**Okay, this chappie is another rain-before-the-storm kinda thing. It's again to help everyone get the feel of what's about to happen, and me trying to tie up some messy knots.**

**For all those Suze-Jesse fans, LOCK YOURSELF UP WITH YOUR COMPUTER AND GET A BOWL OF ICE CUBES. I tried to make it as steamy as poss, without being too rude-alicious and just plain dirty/wrong/really-bad-trying-to-be-hot-but-failing-miserably-wannabe-romance-writer.**

**For all those Suze-Paul fans, j'apologise. You may want to RUN AWAY.**

* * *

Because it was still early in the afternoon – the sun had yet to begin its slow descent – I headed to the beach again; my new place of thinking and resting. 

I found a suitably quiet and empty spot on the beach and slung my backpack from off my shoulder onto the soft sand in front of me. I unzipped it and pulled out the main constituent of its contents – the Book of the Dead. I'd packed it this morning on instinct, something murmuring softly in the back of my mind to do so; that I hadn't yet finished my task.

Sucking in a deep breath, I flipped open the book with a disinterest I didn't quite feel. The pages automatically fell to bare the picture I had looked at last night – the one that portrayed mine and Paul's fate. I suppressed a shudder of distaste at what it represented. Don't get me wrong – I would have been proud to say I'd drawn something so well, but when it came to my own death, I wasn't about to praise its attention to detail or tonal compliments.

The rhyme on the opposite side of the page read:

_As the Punished leaks his soul_

_The deed to save becomes more foul;_

_The Saviour pays more dark a price;_

_He gives his life as sacrifice._

_When Day and Night meet betwixt _

_The time has come for magic's tricks._

_Day is neither, Night is nor_

_And so becomes an enchanted door_

_When the bell tolls three after midnight_

_And Night meets Day, and Day meets Night_

_The power flows through the enchanted portal_

_To save the Punished; to make him mortal._

I stared for a moment at the words, not really seeing the individual letters or understanding the meaning. Instead I was hearing a dull roaring between my ears that seemed to be reverberating through my body.

It took me a minute to realize I wasn't imaging the shakes that had overtaiken my body, and that in fact I was trembling. Even though the dulling sun still offered a blanket of warmth, a bitter chill had settled itself in my bones, setting off a mountain range of goosebumps across my skin and setting my teeth to chatter-mode.

_Shock_, I figured numbly, and began rocking myself in a futile effort to spread some meagre amount of warmth through my body. _I'm going into shock._ _Good thing I'm such a strong person. Good thing I'll get through this._ But even as these thoughts trailed through my mind I knew it wasn't quite true. I knew that at three in the morning, when I called Paul to me and gave my life up for him, I would still be in shock. And there would be no one to comfort me…

"Susannah? _Querida?_ Why did you call me?" Jesse crouched down in front of me and touched a gentle finger to my ice cold cheek. "_Querida_, you're freezing! What's wrong?"

"I'm just a bit chilly, that's all," I whispered. Still staring blankly at the heavy book in my lap, I noticed the words had dissolved away to be replaced by the sickening scripture _Living Living Living_…

Jesse grabbed the book and threw it into the sand and before I knew what was happening, he had hauled me into his lap and was enveloping my in his arms. He tucked my head into the crook between his head and his neck and he folded my body up to fit neatly in the comforting cave his body provided. His large hands began to rub my arms fiercely, then moved over my back and legs.

It was a reflex reaction from a man who, in a previous life, had wanted to be a doctor – to use his own body warmth to help someone who had none.

Unfortunately for him – or, more importantly, unfortunately for me – Jesse's death had robbed him of any body heat, and so all he was doing was offering me a nice cocoon of comfort while his arms rubbed a little warmth back into me.

But the little warmth he did restore to me, and the comfort I could feel melting my spine into a relaxed position, did me good, and my mind cleared a bit of the fog of despair that had been clouding it.

"I'm okay now, Jesse. I promise." I tilted my head back and looked up at him.

His dark eyes were even darker with concern and piercing into my own. He lifted a hand a lovingly pushed a bang that had fallen across my forehead behind my ear, leaving his hand to linger against my skin.

I began to lever myself up enough so that I could climb elegantly – in my dreams – out of his lap. To my surprise, his strong arms tightened their hold. I looked up at him quizzically.

"Let me hold you, Susannah." He placed a kiss against my forehead. "Let me just…hold you."

Well, who was I to argue if a burning hunk of love wanted to cling onto me? Although who was doing the most clinging was difficult to tell, because we were both holding onto each other like limpets at high tide.

Not a particularly nice metaphor, I know, but that's how it felt. So sue me; English class never was my strong point.

"Do you plan on telling me why you called me? And why I arrived to find you in a state of shock?" Jesse's calm voice was underlined with something that had me looking sharply up at him. His opaque eyes gave nothing away, though the lines bracketing his mouth showed clearly the strain he was under to keep his own anger on a tight leash.

Though why he was angry was beyond me. All I knew was that muscle that twitched whenever Paul had done something particularly nefarious was going all out at the moment on the twitching scale.

"It's just this situation with Paul-"

Abruptly I broke off as Jesse surged into a litany of Spanish cuss words. Or at least, I presumed they were cuss words. Judging from the snapping tone of his voice, I couldn't really figure what else he might be saying.

And suddenly the mystery of the anger was solved! Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out.

"Jesse. Jesse!" I called his name, trying to break him from his Paul-abuse mood, but the guy had a serious grudge, and from what I could tell, he was only getting started. I wrestled my arms free from his death grip – no pun intended – and cupped my palms over his cheeks.

As suddenly as it had started, the cussing stopped. "Jesse, it's not his fault." I ignored his ungracious snort. "It's not. I'm simply being a girl about it, and getting all hormonal at my lack of ability to do anything about Paul's…problem."

What? Did you think I was going to tell him _why_ I was so upset when he found me?

Yeah, that would go over swell: _Hey, Jesse, chill; I was only upset about being the proverbial sacrificial goat tonight for a guy you detest, loathe and despise. What's that? You want to lock me up in a tower halfway across the world, gag me, bound me, drug me and post big, burly guards by me for the following years of my lifetime? Oh, alrighty then._

I _don't_ think so.

"You should not feel guilty about this, _querida_," Jesse was saying. "It is not your problem to worry about."

No, it was just my problem to _kill myself for._

Instead, I sighed in a distressed-damsel kind of way. "I know, I know," I whispered, shaking my head. "I just feel so…_useless_." I blinked big, guileless eyes up at Jesse. "You know?"

"Oh, Susannah." Jesse dipped his head and bestowed a soft kiss on my lips, one that had me leaning into him to follow him as he drew away. "You are too kind for your own good."

I widened my eyes innocently, as if I couldn't think of anything to say, in order to hide the gargantuan snort I could feel building in my nose.

My silence was obviously a good thing, because Jesse once again lowered his head, and once again I was lost in the deliciousness that was Jesse. My worries sailed away on the wind as the softness of his lips cushioned mine, and my tension seeped out of my body like the moan that left my throat when he deepened the kiss.

Dark pleasure unfurled inside of me and my body thrummed on it.

One of my hands slid up to curl itself in Jesse's cool, thick hair, whilst the other one slid down to press against his heart. Though there was no beat, I felt warmth.

Jesse mumbled something incoherent against my lips, and suddenly I was being moved; stretched out tenderly and smoothly against the cushioning sand. I blinked open my eyes and saw Jesse, leaning up on his forearms hanging over me. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead and I reached up a hand to brush it aside.

"I love you, _querida_."

Instantly tears burned my eyes at the quiet sincerity in his voice, at the burning passion in his eyes and the gentler – but no less intense – love behind it.

"Just as well," I said, and forced a smile before coughing to clear my throat. "Because I love you, too." This time my voice broke on the word 'love'. Before Jesse could react, though, I'd dragged his face back down to mine, and was kissing him senselessly, desperately. And he was returning it.

I wasn't going to say goodbye to Jesse this evening, I decided. After all, I'd be joining him soon. After three in the morning, to be precise. There was no need to say goodbye, when we'd be together forever onwards.

Maybe this was what the tarot card-reader had meant when she'd said our love would last an eternity. Who knew?

All I did know was that I was putting all my love into my kiss, as Jesse's lips met mine in a crushing spell of passion and love and, on my part, fear.

My hands were frantically moving over Jesse's body; up, around and over his shoulders, skimming across their broad width; down that wide back and into the soft notch at the base of his spine. My fingers delved under his thin white shirt to touch that velvety-smooth skin, and I almost sighed with the pleasure it gave me. That such a lean, hard body could still be soft and yielding.

Jesse's own hands were gliding – tentatively, at first – over my arms and waist and stomach and hips. Then more firmly they applied pressure, and he sank his fingertips into my skin to hold me more tightly to him, pressing his long length against mine in fierce possessiveness.

Our feet – both bare – I had kicked my boots off before I'd reached the sand, Jesse had probably blinked his away a moment ago – tangled together as Jesse's hard thigh inserted itself between my legs, and his knee insistently pushed them apart to make room for him to lie in the space created.

All the while he peppered my face with hot kisses; my eyelids; my brow; the tip of my nose. He trailed his mouth to my ear where he paused to whisper heated Spanish words. His tongue flicked out and caught the shell of my ear, making me gasp in surprise and pleasure, and he laughed huskily before moving his sweet torture to my neck and the sensitive nerve under my jawbone.

He paid my neck lavish attention and I simply gasped and groaned and shrieked in response, my body twisting under his until he stilled it with a squeeze of his large hands and leaned his body more heavily and fully on top of mine.

I dragged a hand from his hipbone – where I was urgently holding on for anchorage under his deadly assault – up the corrugated planes of his stomach and the uncompromising muscles of his chest until I reached his cheek.

With one last nip at the nerve joining my neck to my shoulder – and one last resultant moan and shudder from me – Jesse moved his face over mine, his nose brushing mine and our ragged breaths mingling together – that is, if Jesse had had breaths. Our heaving chests brushed each other's – mine heaving from trying to drag enough air into my lungs to calm my humming body, Jesse's probably heaving because he got caught up in the moment.

"We should stop now, _querida_," Jesse said, somewhat reluctantly, judging from the way his drugged, heavy-lidded gaze hung on my damp lips. I licked them – my lips, I mean – under Jesse's scrutiny and tasted him on them and his eyes became hotter and darker and more intense and I felt mine doing the same as my breath hitched and my nerves sang, and then Jesse was kissing me again. One last hard kiss before he hauled himself up and away from me, his usual flowing moves jerky.

I contained a whimper at the loss of weight and heat and Jesse. Then I blew out a breath of frustration when I realized he wasn't coming back down and I climbed to my feet in an ungainly fashion.

"You could have helped me up," I grumbled as I dusted sand off my ass, "that would have been the _gentlemanly_ thing to do."

I scowled at Jesse but his eyes were fixed on a spot above my left ear somewhere. "If I had helped you up, my intentions would have become very _un-_gentlemanly, Susannah."

I saw the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. "Oh," was all I said. Was all I needed to say, really.

Jesse nodded.

After a few minutes of mutually collecting ourselves, we could finally face each other properly. "Shall I walk you home, Susannah?" Jesse asked.

I began nodding before I realized what I had so conveniently forgotten – my appointment with my Maker, tonight.

"Ahm, you go ahead. I have to go visit Paul's grandfather tonight. You know; offer my condolences, etc etc."

Jesse took my excuse at face value, though his lips twisted unhappily. "I do not want you worrying yourself sick over this, Susannah." I nodded gravely. "But I will not have you thinking of sacrificing yourself for him, _querida_. Your life is worth more than to be wasted so soon." I felt the blood drain from my face but managed to stay upright under the sudden nausea pounding my gut like an insistent tide. "I love you."

"Love you, too," I whispered, and Jesse shimmered away, leaving me standing alone on the beach, a hand pressed to my stomach trying to hold in the sinking feeling accosting me.

"God damn it," I whispered.

Except it seemed like God had already chosen to damn me, instead.

* * *

**_So...?_**

**REVIEW-ME! FEED ME WITH YOUR LUB...LET ME GROW ROUND AND LARGE AND MERRY...**

**Can I just say, as much as I lub writing lub-scenes (both romantic ones and lustalicious ones), I still feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and embarrassment, especially when my mum comes into the room and goes, "What are you doing?" (as all mums or moms or mas or mamas do) and I have a squeaky voice moment and shriek, "NOTHING! I swear! I'm not doing anything! Omg, what is your problem? You're always so nosy! You're always so suspicious! I hate you!" and then I belt it from the room with my laptop and go hide.**

**Ahem. Anyhoo...**

**REVIEW-ME. You know you want to... **


	25. To Die For

**Yoyo!**

**Toldja I'd update soon, didn't I?**

**Now, for those luverly reviewers to whom I couldn't reply via email, but whom I lub verra verra much:**

**Morri: Hola! Hehehe, I like the 'squishy' description. As for the almost-liking Paul thing - I SHALL convert you. Maybe. Depends if I decide I like him or not... Moowahahahaa ;)**

**gyvenska: I'M BACK! How cool is that? Too cool, too cool. I'm pleased at your speechlessness. And I can totally relate to the diary thing - my mum used to actually QUOTE things I'd written back to me, in really UNSUBTLE ways. So then I wrote purposefully sneaky things like, "And my mum NEVER buys me enough clothes", trying to get mum to take the hint. Didn't work. Hope you enjoy this chappie as much as the others, mi amica ;)**

**Beware of Bewulf: HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! I'm sorry, clearly I didn't have enough imagination to think up such an idea for Paul to come to life. Either that, or I'm not as SEX-OBSESSED as you! HAHHAHA! I lub it. Oh, man. That has so totally made my evening. Genius. Maybe I'll write another story... Lol, you are way too hilariously messed up. You HAVE to review again, simply because you're nuts, and it's fantabulous. Hahahha. I'll try to get more steamyness in ;)**

**Lane: I lub being lubbed for my fluff. Because I lub ALL fluff. Oh, man, I so feel the same when I go on Fanfic. I have to hide the window whenever my mum or bro or dad walk in the room. And then I have to delete the website from the History... Anal, I know, but I'm simply paranoid. ;)**

**Anna: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! So not getting rid of that 'abomination'. Even your lub is not worth that. Hehehehe. It had to be done. It HAD to be done. Surely you see that? Hope the rude bits in the previous chappie didn't alert you to the fact that I'm not a good girl. BECAUSE I AM. Please don't judge me...**

**FINALLY!The time has come!**

**Will Suze, or won't she?**

**Is Paul worth the ultimate sacrifice?**

**Will someone come to save her, in the nick of time, or has her fate already been written?**

**And, more importantly, WILL THERE BE ANY MORE HANKY-PANKY?**

**Stay tuned...**

* * *

By the time it was a quarter to three in the morning, the butterflies in my stomach had managed to do a seriously good job about destroying it. It felt as though they'd damn well _eaten_ it. 

The drowning silence, except for the lulling of the waves, had done nothing to calm the fluttery nerves dancing through my system like thousands of tiny electric shocks.

I decided it was time to call Paul.

I hadn't told him any of my plans of what I was going to do tonight because I knew he wouldn't agree.

Well, I semi-knew. I fully knew he didn't want me to kill myself for him, so from that I gathered he wouldn't be totally supportive of my idea.

That's why I'd left it to the last – I consulted my watch – _fourteen_ minutes before I called him here.

There hadn't been anything to prepare – no chicken blood or voodoo candle arrangements this time – so instead for the last couple of hours I'd done a lot of deep breathing. I might as well enjoy that privilege why I still have it.

For the last twenty minutes I'd bitten off all of my newly-manicured nails.

For the last ten minutes I'd said a prayer for every member of my family – friends included.

For the last five minutes I'd practiced what I was going to say to Jesse when I appeared to him in my new ghostly image,

For the last two minutes I'd wondered if maybe I should have chosen a more comfortable outfit to die in – my skirt was flapping almost indecently in the wind; my boots were sinking into the sand at painful angles; and my hair was whipping at my face in a really _nasty_ way that I knew was leaving my cheeks and nose an uncomplimentary shade of red.

With one hand holding my frantic hair, I cupped my other hand around my mouth and shouted, "Paul!"

Then I waited.

For, like, a second. The guy really _was_ desperate – he must have been sitting right next to that spectral telephone to answer so quickly.

"You beckoned, my sweet?" Paul stood about a meter in front of me, hands on hips and smirk on lips. Then he took a look around. "Um, Suze? What the hell are we doing on the beach at a quarter to three in the morning?"

I blew out a breath. Here goes.

"I found out a way to save you," was all I said. After all, I didn't want him disappearing on me before I could perform this show, did I? I figured I could stall him by getting him to keep asking me questions – like in the movies, when the girl's being held hostage waiting for her handsome hero to save her by asking really insane questions like, "Do you really think you'll get away with this?" or saying really stupid things like, "You can still get away with this, you still have a chance to go to heaven, don't end it like this!" Okay, so I don't like action movies all that much. Sue me.

Paul's face instantly lit up. "You did? Way to go, Suze!" He gave me a fierce hug, then took a step back, his hands still clutching my shoulders. "Wait." A frown appeared on his brow. "Does it have something to do with the time and place of our current situation?"

I took his hands in mine and brought them round in between us, like the _Book of the Dead_ had drawn. Paul didn't notice because I'd kept my eyes locked on his while I told him: "The time, yes. The place, no."

Paul quirked an eyebrow. "Okay. What's so special about a quarter to three in the morning?"

I stole a glance at my watch, again without Paul noticing. I couldn't let him discover I needed to hold his hands for this to work in case he caught on for some reason, I tried to break away. "Actually, it's more like ten to three, now."

Paul nodded, waiting for me to say more. When I didn't, he inquired, with a little less patience, "Well, what's so special about a ten to three, then?"

"Nothing," I said.

This time Paul's eyes narrowed and I knew that little bit of patience had run out. "Suze…" he growled warningly.

"It's actually precisely three am that's important." I kept my sentences short to keep him talking, trying to desperately pass the time until show time without Paul catching on to anything dodgy, such as me concentrating all my life energy on him.

"Damn it, Suze, why the hell is '_precisely three am'_" – I did _not_ appreciate the mimicking, can I just say? – "so special?"

"Because that's when night and day meet, so that it's neither daytime or nighttime at that specific time. This means our mediator powers have more strength because a special door is opened between our world and the spectral world, or the underworld, or wherever. Whatever. I'm not that good on the details of this whole thing."

Another peek at my watch – five minutes to go.

Paul's frown became less irate and more confused. "How do you know all this?"

"I did a little light reading from the _Book of the Dead_."

Paul's eyebrows lifted all the way to his hairline so fast it was like they moved there using ghost powers. "Oh, yeah? And what did the _Book of the Dead_ tell you I have to do to get out of this?"

"Well," I said, and shifted my footing for better balance – you know, in case anything went _boom_, or something, "first, it told me to wait until three in the morning."

"I got that much, Suze."

"Okay, then it said I have to hold your hands like…_this_." I moved our linked hands up into the prayer position together.

Paul's frown came back. "Hold it a second, Suze. What part do you have in all of this?"

I glanced at the watch again – thirty seconds.

"Oh, you know. I'm just here to help you keep your balance. Supernatural powers can be very turbulent and unpredictable things, I hear."

But Paul's frown was still suspicious. "Suze, what exactly is going on here?" He tried to yank his hands away, but I gripped them more firmly.

Don't ask me how a guy who probably weighed seventy to eighty pounds more than me couldn't find the strength to pull away from me; I guess that adrenalin I had shooting through my veins was giving me some superhuman powers.

Well, _more_ superhuman powers, if you're going to be picky and count the whole "I see dead people" thing.

"What's going on here, Paul," I said calmly, ignoring his struggles and panicked yelling, "is I'm going to save your life." With one last, deep breath, I said, "Tell my family I love them, Paul."

Paul's anguished scream of "_NOOOOOOO!"_ ripped through my heart, but I lifted my head to the sky and closed my eyes instead of reacting like I wanted to – by running far, far away.

Shutting out every sound and feeling, I concentrated solely on the connection of my hands to Paul's. I concentrated on the rhythmic pounding of my heart. On the sparkling aura I could feel around me that represented my life force.

I could feel my aura brightening, growing, and I could feel the power inside of me heating and boiling. It raced through my bloodstream like water down a hosepipe. I felt sharp tingles of awareness all over my body – suddenly the wind was buffeting me more ferociously, suddenly the tangy, salty smell of the sea was erupting in my nose.

An overwhelming sense of frustration overcame me – you know that feeling when you've just eaten a pound of candy, and the sugar high is zinging through you, but you have no outlet for all that energy? Well, I felt like that. Except multiplied by a hundred thousand million.

It felt as though, if I didn't get rid of all this energy ricocheting inside of me like a hundred tiny bullets of solid heat, if I didn't get rid of all those bullets, I would die. My heart and mind and body would just explode.

Man, I _needed_ to get rid of that energy.

I could feel a scream building in my throat, rumbling from the very heart of me. The rest of my body felt ice cold except for my heart, which was thudding harder, faster, almost as if it was bouncing off my ribcage to my spine and then back again. My freezing hands clasped Paul's struggling ones in a painfully tight grip, but I didn't hear his grunt of pain and I didn't see him sink to his knees.

All I knew was that there was something _alive _inside of me. Something bigger and brighter than I could have ever imagined was clamoring to escape from inside me, and I had to let it.

It was building and building and building and…

And then something in side of me seemed to heave me, heart first, towards Paul. It was as if someone had hooked an anchor between my ribs, and had suddenly yanked me forward.

I braced myself against Paul's hands before I fell over him, so that my body formed an arc, starting at where our hands met and going to where my back curved towards the sky, ending at where my feet were planted wide apart, sinking giant holes into the sand as the force of what was happening pushed me downwards.

All the while I kept my head tilted to the sky, my neck straining, my eyes screwed tightly shut, my lips open in a soundless scream.

I felt ten feet tall. I felt huge and powerful and destructive. I felt invincible.

I had no notion of the tornado of sand that was whirling frenetically around Paul and I – with Paul still kneeling on the floor, frozen in a perverted parody of a man begging his god for forgiveness on his knees, with his back arched as inwards as mine was arched outwards, his hands braced against mine and his head thrown back.

I had no notion of the blinding light that was emanating from our joined hands – of the starlight trickles of light that had replaced the blood in my, flowing towards our joined hands, feeding the glowing ball that was growing there.

What I did have a notion of was feeling my invincibility draining away, leaving me mortal and frail and small.

I could feel my life slipping away, even as my head screamed and screamed for it to come back. But my body wouldn't – couldn't – move.

And all the while, my mind kept on screaming.

Until I didn't have the energy for even that. Until my thoughts shut down and my limbs turned to rubber.

As I began to sink, lifeless, to the ground, Paul's and my hands broke apart, and the connection was gone.

Through a slit between my eyelids and the bottom of my eyes, I watched as the blinding light shot towards Paul, into Paul, throwing him meters backwards like a rag doll thrown by a fed up child.

My mind sparked with something for an instant, but it was so quick and so feeble that I couldn't tell what it was, or what it meant.

I dimly registered the sand storm had fallen, showers of sand dropping to the floor as lifelessly as Paul and I had. The ball of light was gone too. Or… no, that wasn't right. I could see light, through my blurred and darkened vision, I could see Paul's crumpled body glowing, rising upwards. It was as though a giant hand had grabbed Paul's middle, and was gently lifting him upwards.

_It's God_, I stupidly thought. _God's taking him home. He'll take me next._

And then Paul's body stretched, violently, and twitched, and I didn't want God to take me home. I watched as Paul's back straightened, as all his limbs straightened in a sudden, sharp motion that flung his body into a wide, cruel star shape. I saw the glow being sucked into his body by an invisible vacuum, laying itself through him like a blanket of light and warmth.

And all the while Paul was screaming.

But that didn't mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me. How could it, when I didn't know what was happening? Or why? Or who I even was?

Then Paul's body dropped like a falling bird and he landed heavily on the sand, his body no longer glowing or rigid.

And that's when I felt my heart stop.

* * *

**Uh oh. **

**She's in trouble. With no way out...**

**REVIEW-ME, or I'm so notupdating.**

**All those people who only read-me, take a chance, and REVIEW-ME. Come on. I won't bite. You don't even have to say anything. Simply type 'lub', and I shall feel it. The lub, I mean. Sheesh. Sickos.**


	26. Rumors Of My Demise

**Here's _Delilah!_**

**And the moment you've all been waiting for... chappie 26. **

**Sorry for the longish delay in updating - so many things going on. Many family trips, and THEN, oh my God, I painted the kitchen and halls and lounge in my house, and they look GREAT, even if I do say so myself. Mainly because I chose the colours, and I rock. Obviously. ;) The lounge is now ORANGE. HAHAHA. I lub it.**

**But a moment for my thanks, if you please:**

**Lane:** **Haha, the parent paranoia never ends... my dad used to read my texts! How rude is that? And all that D-R-A-M-A you mentioned? Moowahahahaha...I never did back away from some angry hunky men. ;)**

**Morri: Quote-unquote from you "**OO" **Well said. Lol :)**

**Rachel: Lub right back atcha, dawg ;)**

**nor'nirishcraic: Hehe, glad you're lubbing it - I'm very proud of my cliffies. 'Course I'm gonna reply to you! Especially if it keeps you reading...hypnotising finger wiggling How is N. Ireland nowadays? Is it green? (I've never been!) Oooh, on St Patrick's day is it all really funky? DO YOU WEAR THE GIANT GUINESS HATS? So cool... ;)**

**Querida: Hope this chappie is awesometatious enough! Moowahahahhahaaa :)**

**Slatergirl: Suffer at the cliffies! Hehehe. I have no idea if this fic is nearly finished, cos the words just keep on flowing... I cannae tell you which hotté Suze will land, but I can tell ye...he's a hotté, MOOOWAHAHAHAHAAA. ;)**

**gyvenska: HAHAHA, Paul, a starfish? LOL. Sooooo not the image I intended! Here I was going for Green-Mile-dramatic, and all the while you're seeing Little-Mermaid-under-the-sea! Haha, a funny image, yes, but still... Paul was screaming cos it hurt, but probably there was a little anguish at Suze's killing herself. :)**

**AliAlandra: So pleased you like the description! Seriously, I reckon that's the worst part of writing...even if it basically IS writing. Anyhoo... hope you enjoy! ;)**

**aD3LiN3: Hehehe, I don't hate you...I just like to TORTURE YOU. Can you blame a gal? ;)**

**Nessie717: YAY! You feel the lub! ROCK ON, SISTAH! Does your 'Nessie' name have anything to do with the Loch Ness monster, or am I just insulting your real name? ;)**

**AlLiThElLaMaLuVeR: Hahaha! I lub "Henry the hippo humper"! Sheer genius! That's how I got my name - Delilah Wigglesworth. Started out in primary school and then never really ended. Although, now I'm trying to get people to call me Brian, because that is such a funky name, and if you mix up the letters it spells BRAIN, which MUST mean that people called Brian and super intelligent. It simply MUST. Glad you liked the one shots - they're examples of me being bored during school hours. :)**

**Alicia: Lub back atcha! P.S. I think your name is so pretty! There's something about that name that I've always liked. Dunno why. Just count yourself lucky to be the recipient of my name lubbin' lub. It's a special kinda lub ;)**

**annie: Is Suze dead, isn't she? MOOWAHAHAHHAAAA:)**

**Ariana: Another cool name! Lub it. I'll try to keep on rockin' ;)**

**harr: Sorry about the right arrow issue! If only I had the power to create buttons... :)**

**-**

**Sorry if I missed any reviewers out! The lub is there, I swear! **

**Now, does Suze die or doesn't she? Maybe you won't find out this chappie...maybe I go in a completely different direction and just IGNORE Suze completely? Huh? Then what would you do? HUH? Nuttin'.**

**Luckily, I wasn't that cruel.**

**Or was I...?**

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

All around me was darkness.

A soul-sucking, pressing kind of darkness that was like syrup; heavy and thick and inescapable. I tried to suck some air into my lungs, but I wasn't sure I had a mouth, or an airway, or any lungs. I didn't think I had a body, in fact.

Talk about a downer. Now what was I going to spend my money on?

Then, through the pitch black, I heard something.

Without physically doing so, I squinted, and canted my head, trying to hear what the noise was. I'd thought I was alone in this…place. Obviously not, though.

I listened to silence for a few moments, then I heard a buzzing. Bees? There were bees in this place? Or…no, not bees. It sounded like something synthetic. The buzz tailed off into a zap, then started again after a small pause. Maybe I was near a loose wire? With a feeling of doing so, I looked around me.

Then I – mentally – snorted.

Yeah, like I was going to see anything through all this black.

With a pop, the buzzing cleared into a really loud, "_Suze?_" It echoed through the dark, rebounding upon my – mental – ears, making me – mentally – wince. The volume was extreme and I wondered idly if there was a megaphone nearby, because it sounded tinny and still reasonably unclear.

"Suze? For God's sake."

I frowned. Who the heck was Suze?

"Please." The word echoed and echoed and echoed. Please what? Who was talking? Why wouldn't they leave me alone? I was quite content to stay here in my dark room, wherever or whatever it was, feeling nothing and being nothing. It was…calming.

Hmm. Strange. That seemed like a foreign thing to feel. Why?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

That was another thing: how was I feeling all these physical movements when it appeared I didn't have a body? But in my mind's eye – ah, the perfect way of summing it all up – I could see myself doing it all. Even though I couldn't actually see _myself_.

Weird, huh?

But it didn't scare me, or disturb me.

Nope. There was just more of this calmness.

"Don't be dead. I'm begging you." There was that voice again. Annoying, actually. It was seriously getting on my nerves. I wanted to shoo it away, like you would with an irritating fly.

Because, really, who were they to beg me not to be dead, when – if I _was_ dead – I was thoroughly enjoying it? Talk about selfish. Clearly I was better off dead if I was away from somebody like that.

"Oh, God. Wake up. Don't die."

Pshaw. Like I was going to listen to what they had to say. Loser. I bet if I showed them what it was like here, they'd wish they were dead.

"I don't know what to do! I don't know what to _do_!"

Well, that wasn't my problem, _bud_. Sheesh. Some people, huh?

"_Help _me!"

Oh, go away.

See, now you've annoyed me so much, whoever you are, that I'm going to just sit here in silence. Okay, so I might hum. That was pretty relaxing. Shame I couldn't actually hear what I was humming. But it was there. I could feel it through me.

And then…something odd happened. For one split second, the darkness cracked, clean in two, and something bright and white pierced my vision. I screamed, afraid and surprised, but the light was already gone.

Breathing hard, I looked frantically around, trying to find the source of the light, trying to soothe the pain that had speared through me with the light.

Suddenly I was frightened. Where was I that I would be hurt so much? I didn't want to be here. I was alone and afraid and in pain.

I wanted to go home. Wherever that was.

"_Suze! Please!_" The voice was different too. Louder, more obtrusive, more grating. And it hurt, like the light – though this time it hurt my head, whereas the light had hurt my eyes.

Then the light broke through again, and I screamed again and hurt again and this time I heard the voice with it – "_Breathe_, goddamn it!" – so my head hurt too.

For hours, it seemed, this continued. The light and voice and the pain. I screamed and cried with it. Occasionally, it would all dim, like a light bulb fading then brightening. At those times, I would smile through my tears in relief.

Then it would all start again.

Where was I? Why was this happening to me?_ How could I get it to stop?_

I tried to run but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape to. I was trapped.

"Come _on_!"

My head throbbed and I groaned.

Then something…shifted. I felt slanted and uneasy.

And…filled. All at once I felt full and heavy and solid.

In fact, I just plain _felt_. Tingles in my arms, for example. Nausea rolling in my stomach. And a weight on my chest, like a lightweight anvil – now, if that isn't a contradiction in terms, I don't know what is. There was also a sharp, spiking pain in my chest, right under and across the weight.

I realized what the full feeling was – _air_. Rushing into and inflating my lungs.

I didn't like it. Scrunching my eyes tightly together, I pictured myself back where I was, back in the safe, calm darkness.

I was there.

Though…something was tugging me back, back to feeling something. A rhythmic pounding on my chest that kept on flashing me closer to that place of pain. I didn't _want_ that. Didn't they understand? Why wouldn't they _go away_? Leave me _alone_!

I struggled in the black; struggled to stay _in_ the black.

But I wasn't strong enough, and soon I was crashing back into a solid body and _feeling_ things.

Ick.

Who wanted to be alive when it was _painful_? My limbs – no, I still couldn't see them, but now I could sense they were there – were prickly and achy. My head was throbbing constantly even without that person yelling through a megaphone directly into my ear.

"Jesus, Suze, don't _do_ this to me!"

Don't do it to _me_, jerk! This was _so_ not pleasant.

It was a continuous battle: I kept forcing myself to slide back to the simple, unproblematic black, but whoever was out there kept pulling and dragging me back to the agonizing place of _being_ something.

"Susannah?" That voice had me blinking, even though that hurt too. This new voice was different – not loud or tinny or scary. This voice was low and soothing and lovely. It was warm and comforting – welcoming.

"Come back to me, Susannah." Now _that_ was tempting. I could picture it: gentle light and warmth wrapping around my body and easing all my aches.

But…I couldn't.

Could I?

I belonged here.

Didn't I?

No, I wasn't going to head towards that voice. Instead, I heaved my mind back to the black. Only this time I got half way there before my body jerked itself back. Growling in frustration, I screamed a frustrated, "_Why?"_

Of course, no one answered. I didn't expect them to.

"Don't leave me, _querida_." I smiled. I don't know why. It was spontaneous. And it felt wonderful. Freeing. Glorious. "I need you." That was even better.

My body was still sore, but now there was something else there to help with that: hope. Corny, I know, but it felt good.

"I love you." That was when my heart exploded.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

All I knew was that suddenly, this _thing_ was inside my chest, when it hadn't been there before, and it was excruciating – it was as though someone had just stuck a cattle prod into my skin.

I screamed and screamed as the burning continued – and from it spread and tha-_thump_…tha-_thump_ of pain. With each tha-_thump _came a sensation of someone trying to force golf ball round my body through my veins.

Not overly pleasant, to be honest. In fact, I wanted to rip myself from my body so I couldn't feel it anymore.

But with it came a sort of energy.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop me from hurting as though a hundred men were drilling, hammering and buzz-sawing respectively. I didn't want to feel, I _didn't_.

Someone, make it _stop_! "_Make it stop!"_

"Susannah?"

"Suze?"

I gasped as my ears objected to the sudden cacophony of noise.

Only that gasp meant burning air rushing unexpectedly into my lungs, which cause my chest to expand dramatically and my heart to pound heavily and all of this set off a chain reaction of explosions of stinging pain.

Which, in turn, caused me to scream.

"Oh, God, Suze! I'm so sorry!"

"Susannah, you need to calm down. Susannah!"

I sucked in a shuddering breath, and – just like the Bible says – then there was light.

Well, a pinkish glow. Eyelids, I distantly recalled, and gradually opened them. Only the light that shone through that tiny slit was like a hundred tiny knives stabbing at the conjunctiva, so I quickly shut them again.

I gave a shuddering sob as my body was wracked with twitches and twinges. I felt my limbs spasm as blood gushed into the previously stilled veins. And let me tell you something: that is no picnic of pleasure.

In fact – surprise, surprise – it was pretty freakin' unbearable. So I felt I'd earned the right to let loose another scream.

Warm hands soothed over my face and neck, and that wonderful voice crooned in my ear, "You can get through this, _querida_. Just remember I'm here. I'll always be here. You need to breathe, Susannah. Smooth breaths. You can do it."

I concentrated on that voice, those hands, and did what he said. Drawing in even breaths, I felt my body relax, and the pain recede.

Something warm brushed my forehead – two lips; a kiss – and that voice encouraged, "Open your eyes, _querida_. Open your beautiful green eyes for me."

I tried. God, how I tried. But my eyelids were weighted and scratchy. They were dry and painful. My lashes fluttered with the effort, but that's all that happened.

Still, that calming hand stroked my hair with rhythmic consistency, driving me on even as that voice purled into me like a flowing river of strength; it poured into every crack and crevice inside of me and filled any emptiness and holes I might have had, ones I didn't even know were there.

"Come on, _querida_. Try harder. Just a little bit more. You can do it. I know you can. I know you can do it, Susannah."

I teetered on the two prongs of scared reluctance and eagerness to please the voice's requests.

The eagerness to please won.

With what seemed like gigantic effort on my part, my eyelids scraped open, dragging across the surface of my eyes. A small moan passed through my dry lips.

The light knifed into my eyes but after moments – minutes – of rapid blinking the pain became bearable and my eyes more focused.

I heard exultant yells but didn't listen to them as I concentrated on what I could see. _I could see!_

Two brown, beautiful eyes filled my vision. The concern in them was dark, but the relief was darker, deeper.

"_Dios mio! Gracias! Querida, mi querida_." Those lips again pressed fervently against my forehead, stayed there, then pressed hard into my own lips. The beautiful eyes stared into mine as his forehead rested against my own. "I love you," he whispered feverishly, "I love you _so_ _much_." I was still gasping for breath – though why it was so hard to breathe, I didn't know – but in the midst of one gasp the name "Jesse" suddenly popped out.

And just like that, everything slid into place.

It was as though I was standing in a mirrored elevator, and as the doors slid shut my reflection was suddenly complete. Instantly, I knew who I was. And with that flooded in torrents of other information – where I was, why I was here, how it all began, etc etc.

It wasn't an altogether pleasant experience, if I'm perfectly honest.

The whole 'ignorance is bliss' adage? _So_ completely true in this case. Why, you may ask? Mainly because those beautiful brown eyes – so caring and concerned at the moment – would turn hard and fierce with anger in only minutes at the realization of what I had done.

Oh, yes. Jesse was going to be one angry ghost. And I, as usual, would be the recipient of that anger.

Forget shaking mirrors, this bad boy was probably going to raze the whole of Carmel with his supernatural fury.

But for now, I figured I'd milk the whole Suze-almost-died-again-I'm-so-in-love-with-you thing he had going on. Jesse was probably going to need a while to get over what I had done tonight which would mean no Jesse-lovin' for me for as long as that sulk lasted.

Mental sigh. Guys can be so over-dramatic sometimes, you know?

Speaking of dramatic…

"Jesse…Jesse! I'm fine. I'm fine. Is Paul okay? I saw him go flying right before…" Right before what? Right before my semi-ascension to the higher plane? What exactly happened?

Jesse's hands cradled my face as he lay me gently back onto the sand. "Paul is not injured. Do not concern yourself, Susannah. You need to rest. We will take you to the hospital to make sure you are not in any danger, but for now you need to remain calm."

I sat up abruptly at the word 'hospital'. "No, Jesse. No, no, _no_. No way am I going to a hospital. I _told_ you. I feel fine. Look." To prove just how fine I was, I pushed myself vertical.

I got to a crouch, then was washed back down by a wave of intense fatigue and dizziness. "Whoa," I moaned, lifting a hand to my forehead. Yeah, like that was going to stop the jack-hammer pounding against my skull.

"I am looking, Susannah. And what I see is a girl who needs medical attention."

Maybe I did, but I still wasn't going to any hospital. "I'm just feeling a little drained, that's all. Like I pulled an all-nighter and then ran out of coffee. You said it yourself, Jesse. All I need is some rest, then I'll be right as rain." When he looked less than convinced, I placed my hand over his resting against my cheek. "I promise, Jesse."

His eyes seared into mine for a few seconds longer, as if checking for any signs of potential heart failure or brain haemorrhaging. Then he sighed, and I knew I'd won. "Alright. But I will carry you home and you will stay in bed for at least two days."

"One," I argued.

"Two."

"One and a half."

"Deal. And no schoolwork."

This time I smiled. "Deal."

With a reluctant smile, Jesse scooped me into his arms. From my new perch, I caught sight of Paul, standing a few feet away looking pale and wretched and solid. He watched us with solemn eyes as we approached. I smiled – though it might have been a little weak; suddenly I was feeling very tired and slumberous – and greeted him. "You're looking very alive. No after affects? No lingering supernatural capabilities?"

Paul showed no sign of appreciating my humorous quips. "I'm alive," he said flatly. "And it's a goddamn miracle you are, too." Then the full force of his anger was all at once unleashed. On me. "What the hell were you thinking, Suze? Were you even thinking at all? Jesus Christ, you almost _died_ tonight! You almost died trying to save my life! I could _feel_ you in my _blood_! I could feel you flowing right out of your body and then _slamming_ into mine!

"Do you know how that made me _feel_? To know that I had literally sucked the life out of you? I felt like a goddamn vampire! I felt like a _murderer!_ _How was I going to live with that, Suze_? How was I going to live with the knowledge that I had killed the girl I lo–" He broke off unexpectedly and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if gathering himself together. "How was I supposed to live if you had died?" he asked quietly, the low volume juxtaposing the previous bellows and making me feel empty, and sad, and scared.

I looked at Paul with wide, confused eyes, not knowing what to say. In the end he blinked back his furious tears, shook his head, and walked off down the beach, disappearing into the bleeding pink-and-blue sky and endless sand.

I took a shuddering breath, surprised at the acid feel of tears in my own eyes and back of my throat, and looked up at Jesse, unconsciously pleading with him to help me figure this all out.

Instead he kissed my lips, held me more firmly against his chest, and said, "Let's go home."

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**...well...?**

**What did ya think? **

**I tell you what... REVIEW-ME, and then tell me what ya thunk. DO IT. Don't make me hurt you... ;)**

**Lub is all you need, dahlinks. **


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